


In Love With Dreaming

by corinnemaree



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 12:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 66,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnemaree/pseuds/corinnemaree
Summary: Dreaming with your soulmate was what every twenty-one year old wanted - but for Claire, dreaming became a burden on her and her soulmate; she hasn’t been able to see his face for ten years. When things started to seem better, she starts to dream of someone else; Owen Grady.





	1. Searching for Something More

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set in canon ‘verse, and I’m going to be honest, this was a struggle and a half, but it doesn’t mean i’m not proud as shit of it! Please, enjoy cause I did. xx

It took a very long time for Claire to gain the courage to tell her soulmate that she couldn’t see his face. Well, not in the traditional sense; her dreams with her soulmate were clouded around his face. Always scratched out or blurred, only ever seeing his body. He didn’t seem to mind now, but when she first told him, he had never seem more defeated; the way his shoulders slumped and everything seemed closed off, as though he saw himself as unworthy. She reminded him constantly that it wasn’t the case...she just wasn’t ready. 

She hadn’t been ready for ten years. Ten fucking years. She was beginning to doubt herself, that there was something wrong with her. There were days and weeks where she couldn’t help but avoid him; she wasn’t worth his attention and his caring touch upon her shoulder.

Soulmates first connect when they’re twenty-one, and the first time she dreamed of him was a whirlwind of emotions. She turned twenty-one later than he did, he said he had been waiting nearly a year - he wondered if he was going to be alone in his dreams forever. It wasn’t common for soulmates to lose their other half so young, but it did happen. 

Sometimes, Claire and her soulmate would just sit in a field and talk, or go to a cafe, anywhere they’re subconscious wanted them to go. Most of the time, they would be wandering empty streets and talk for what felt like hours just so they wouldn’t have to wake. There were times where she thought she could see his face but nothing ever stuck. 

“Your hair is different,” he said, picking at flowers in the nearby. Claire tucked hair behind her ear, her red hair longer and out past her shoulders which she usually put up and out of her face. “You trying to impress me or something?” he chuckled. Coming back to Claire, he placed a little daisy past her ear; even though she couldn’t see his face, she felt like he was smiling at her fondly. 

“Would it be so hard to impress you?” she asked, biting the edge of her lip. His hand slid up her face, thumb tugging her lip from her teeth. Claire felt the tremble in her breath, wondering if he would always make her feel like this; ten years of feeling weightless and swimming in air. 

“Let me think,” his head obviously tilted. “Not at all.” When Claire laughed at him, she heard him giggle slightly, take her into his arms like he had done before, but there was a wanting that had only happened a few times before. Claire craved to know what the feeling ended with but she may not know. 

“You’re a fool,” she shook her head, his rough hands running up her cheek, the sigh that left him was visible in his chest. 

“I’m yours,” he said, voice low, gravelly and rough. And that feeling swelled in her chest, the urge to have him kiss and want her as much as she did. She sighed, her arms falling around his shoulders. 

“One day, I’ll discover what it is like to kiss your lips,” she smiled, his hand still on her cheek, the same temptation seeming to fill his chest that filled her own. 

“I know you wanted to see my face first, but...must we really wait?” he asked in a shaken breath and tempted laugh. 

“I’ve made you wait ten years…” Claire looked at at his chest, her hands bound in his gray henley. “I don’t want you to wait ten more because of me,” she breathed, waiting patiently for anything to happen. Claire hated herself for never being able to see his face, to never know what the man she loved - the man the universe thought she was meant to be with for the rest of her life - looked like. It never mattered to her, but it mattered to her that she knew him. 

Then, his head leaned down, Claire’s eyes fluttering to a close as his lips hovered over hers for a moment. And like that, his timid lips touched against hers, kissing her a little more eagerly each time until his forehead leaned against hers. Claire felt like she out of breath when it wasn’t even an intense kiss, there was just something so lifting about his lips on hers. 

“I never knew you would feel so soft, taste like berries and….I want you to see me. I want you to know when I’m kissing you,” he rumbled, holding onto her like she could vanish from his arms in any moment. 

“Once more,” she begged, and just as his lips were about to touch hers, alarms started to blare and sound, racketing around her room until Claire was startled out of her sleep. She leaned back into her bed, groaning loudly before she touched her lips, the soft feeling echoing with the strange scratched above her top lip. How Claire wished it hadn’t have been the morning. She wanted to fall right back into sleep and curl beside her soulmate for days on end. But work loomed and she knew she had to go. 

The island had been her home for nearly six years, and waking up there every day didn’t hurt, but at the beginning and end of the day, she had a job to do. She changed and gathered her things, hearing the waking park as dinosaurs began to roar to life and wake for the day; a new start to a new day. As Claire put on her heels, she heard her phone alert her of something. Looking upon it, just noted more things she needed to do for the day; her mind now trained on more things. 

Dressed in her bright red pants and white wrap shirt, Claire crossed things off her list as she made her way through the slow herds of staffers up before guests. Hair down and out, she was reveling in the fact that her soulmate liked it this way. She always liked impressing him. 

Most staffers went for quick food and coffee to get them through the morning before heading off to their zone. Claire was the same, but she couldn’t help but feel a little out of sorts that morning. It was a beautiful island where most staffers enjoyed themselves, but something about the grass and the sea mixing in scent, filling the air; it just took her back to why she was stressed out in her dreams. This stupid island didn’t help her figure herself out. 

It was early that morning, a few families around, but mostly staffers trying to get breakfast in before the day drained them out. Waving to a few staffers she knew and quickly meeting with a few she had to get quick information off of, she thought she had the morning under her belt. Yet, she knew better of herself.

It wasn’t until she was making her way to the main building that was caught by Owen Grady, the velociraptor trainer. She’d known Owen since he had arrived at the park, nearly two years ago, arriving nearly directly out of the army or something; and he had been a thorn in her side ever since. It wasn’t as though he was annoying - she did like his company - it was just, he had a way of getting under her skin, knowing her too well for comfort. 

Owen came rushing over, that same leather vest and blue button up shirt with sleeves rolled up to his bicep. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he began walking beside her. “Grady,” she sighed, scratching another thing off her list. 

“Claire,” he smiled. “A pleasure as always.” 

Her hand covered her brow, stopping herself. One sentence was all it took for Claire to regret this morning. Bed. Sleep. Dreaming. All things she wanted right at that moment. “Not in the mood, Grady,” she snapped, knowing it was a far bigger snap than was probably justifiable. 

“What’s got you in such a mood?” he scoffed. “Oh, trouble in paradise?” His brow wriggled and a cocky smile on his lips. 

“What?” she asked, her clipboard firmly to her chest defensively.

“Trouble with your soulmate. Long distance?” he clarified. 

“I can’t…” she started out of habit; the idea of telling someone everything was easier than she once thought - Owen made it far easier than she thought. “If you must know, I can’t see his face,” she confessed.

“Wait, really?” he asked, eyes a little wider than normal. When she nodded, Owen scoffed. “Like at all?” he exclaimed. 

“I know roughly what he looks like but his face is just a mess,” she huffed, walking off abruptly.

Owen caught her arm, stopping her entirely. “So what’s with the mood?” 

“I haven’t been able to see him for ten years,” she blurted out in frustration. “Look, I just -” 

“Wait, Claire,” he paused, tugging her lightly to keep her still. “Just….talk it out with me,” he nodded down the long street full of shops and barely any tourists. 

“You don’t wanna hear this,” she waved it off, Owen’s hand shaken off of her. But he remained in her sights, smiling in kind regard and making sure she knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Her chest felt tight. 

“I offered. I want to help,” he nodded. Claire huffed before nodding along. They began walking back down the street slowly, keeping a distance between them - more so that Owen was keeping distant from her, giving her space to talk about this all. He had never done this before, given her room, made her vulnerability feel safer. In his defense, she’d rarely been vulnerable in front of anyone, so he was doing a really good job of it so far. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought I was fine with it. I would figure myself out and be able to see him but it’s been ten years. Why have I still not been able to see him for ten years?” she rambled, tucking hair behind her ear. 

“Claire, what happened?” Owen asked, stepping a little closer to her. 

“He kissed me. For the first time. And I realised how much I’ve been avoiding figuring out what’s wrong with me. He loves me so much and I can’t….I can’t even see his face,” she said in a cracking voice. Owen’s hand suddenly came softly onto her back, rubbing it to soothe her. 

“Let’s keep going and I’ll buy you a coffee,” he said and Claire sniffed, a strong and needed sigh escaped her.

“God I would kill for a coffee,” she exasperated. 

“It’s your lucky day and you don’t have to kill anyone,” he smiled and Claire laughed. They continued on until Claire pointed out that her favourite cafe on the island was coming up. “Look, figuring out your dreams is hard enough, but mix that with a soulmate, you’re in a completely different ball game,” he explained and Claire crooked her eyebrow. 

“Really? Sports analogy?” she laughed. 

“Yeah. I’m going to get you to throw a football one time. I’ve got a pool running and I want to win it,” he commented with a blush of red running over his cheeks. She’d known about it from Zara, who mentioned the men in some of the training departments didn’t believe she’d ever thrown a football before - despite her father being a college football coach. 

“How much?” she asked to his surprise. 

“Got about two hundred riding on it,” he nodded without delay.

“Next staff picnic, you’re getting that two hundred,” she quipped and Owen laughed. 

“Nice,” he smiled. Owen ordered her the coffee she so desperately craved and sat them down at a table as they waited. He huffed before relaxing into his chair, confidence radiating from him; a trait that Claire loathed and admired depending on the day. “Now, you’re stuck because you haven’t figured out who you are. What kind of woman are you? Twenty-one is a confusing time because we’re pulled to jobs and careers, but we never really think about ourselves. Maybe you need some you time before you think about him. It’s a two way thing. If he really loves you, he’ll give you time.” The vague shrug he gave made Claire giggle a little; how could he talk like that as if it were nothing?

“I never knew you could be so profound,” Claire said, shaking her head and taking the first sip of her coffee. Amazing little drink that was going to keep her awake for the next few hours until food could sustain her. 

“Eh, toss it up to my soulmate,” he beamed, a wonderful gleam in his eyes as he spoke. 

“They must be really something,” Claire gave a melancholy smile in return.

“She is,” he replied, biting at the edge of his lip. 

“What’s she like?” she asked and he blinked a few times, stuttering before he could answer. 

“Stubborn, kinda loud when she wants to be,” he smiled, and Caire cleared her throat, looking away from him. “Not like that. We’ve never…” he defended.

“Seriously?” she exclaimed and Owen rolled his eyes.

“Says the woman who  _ just _ got kissed by her soulmate.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I don’t know. She’s like...the world could be on her shoulders but she’ll hold it up with her fingertip.” The blissful way he spoke made Claire’s heart flutter. She didn’t know he could be so loving and caring. 

“You really love her, don’t you?” He nodded.

“Since I was twenty-three years old.” 

Brow crinkled, Claire leaned in slightly. “Not twenty-one?” she asked, taking another tentative sip of her coffee. 

“She’s younger. Kinda sucked at the time but as soon as I met her, she was everything,” he explained, hand gripping onto his coffee cup a little tighter. 

“Must have been lonely,” Claire said, knowing she had done something similar to her own soulmate. It wasn’t their fault, age just made things more confusing and frustrating to connect with a soulmate. 

“Worth it,” Owen corrected. 

They sat drinking and talking for a while. Owen talked about his family, how he missed them when he came to the island but it was better than dealing with his mother ask about his soulmate constantly. Claire related to that, but she also got questions from her sister, the pestering on when she’ll find out. The island kept those away for a few months of the year until holidays rolled around, but it was worth it. When the coffee finally ran out and both of them knew they needed to go to work soon. 

“This coffee is exactly what I need,” she sighed, a weight off her chest. 

“Glad,” he nodded, walking with her to the main building again. At the steps, they stopped. “You out of your own head now?” he asked, hand on her arms, soft and comforting. 

“Yeah. A little,” she nodded. Looking down at the time, she knew she needed to get inside and talk with Zara about the day ahead, and Claire was already late. “I’ve got a meeting with investors today. Might catch up for a meeting later,” she said, starting away from him. Owen threw back his head in groan. 

“Ugh, boring. You could have lured me with coffee or beer,” he started, but soon noticed Claire’s unimpressed look. “Or coffee, considering working hours,” he smiled and Claire rolled her eyes. 

“Just keep your phone on you,” she told him, walking up the stairs and glancing back at him. Owen looked down at his watch before commented something under his breath and racing off. Claire scoffed and went inside for one long day ahead. 

Zara met Claire outside her office, taking Claire’s clipboard and marking off things from the list within her own. They two conversed for a short while before Zara led Claire to the board room. Claire fixed up her attire before going into the room. The meeting seemed to go just fine, investors nodding and looked pleased with the current outcomes of the park. It wasn’t until her presentation was all complete that there were looks exchanged and soft murmurs. God, how she hated when they whispered amongst themselves. 

It took a few more moments of politely smiling before any of the investors actually spoke to Claire. “Indominus Rex?” one asked, hands folded and looking far too concerned for Claire’s liking. 

“Considered the next step in dinosaur genetics research and development,” she reinforced. 

The same one replied, “Have we considered something docile before…” 

“Something murderous?” another injected, taking Claire by surprise. When Mister Masrani originally talked with investors, they all expressed interest in seeing something like the T-Rex, yet with actual projections and viewings of it, they have changed their minds….again. 

“A very valid opinion. We’ll discuss this with our research division,” Claire bared a smile that pricked at the side of her lips, paining her fully but she shook it off. The investors began to leave, shaking Claire’s hand as they left. “Thank you for your time,” she said to every one of them. Zara zoomed into the room, her tablet to her chest and a look of concern on her face.

“How did it go?” she asked. 

“Tell Henry Wu I'm coming to meet with him,” Claire huffed, watching as Zara called down to Henry’s team. Claire marched on down, to the labs and past all the morning tours. Claire walked into Henry’s office, who was preparing himself a tea as another sat on the other side of the desk, just steaming in wait of Claire. 

“Henry, the new dinosaur, how is it coming?” she asked, sliding into the chair opposite Henry’s desk. 

“It’s good to see you too, Claire,” he commented. “Investors again?” 

“I don’t know what they want,” she said, throwing her head back a little. She looked back at Henry and smiled at him, knowing he understood her. Crossing her legs and holding onto her phone tightly, Claire drummed against the metal. “Well, scratch that, I know what they want, I just hate that I know what they’re like,” she corrected.

“Changed their minds again?” he answered his own question and knew it. 

“They want a friendly dinosaur, not something big and scary. All dinosaurs are scary! You wanna be chased by a triceratops? Because I don’t!” she said in frustration. Henry nodded, putting aside the Indominus research he had laying on his desk, putting it inside the drawer. 

“We’ll put indominus on the back burner, get something smaller,” he said with a reassuring voice. 

“I would kiss you if it wouldn’t be so weird,” she giggled, standing from her chair and shaking hands with Henry. 

“See you tomorrow, Claire,” he nodded. 

Claire’s day went from one asset to the next, everyone seemingly coming to her at once and one drama to the next. She’d been busy before, and this was building to her busiest, but with her brain all over the place, she didn’t know if she could handle so much on her plate. When there was a complaint from Masrani about the raptors, Claire had to drive out to meet with the team - which meant Owen. 

Half way through her drive there, she got a call from one of the most irritating men she’d ever come across in her life; Vic Hoskins. Even before answering the call, she felt like she needed to take at least three shots of vodka before she even considered it. The next half of her journey resulted in a shouting match between the two, Claire’s hatred of the man was gathering to new heights. Pushing past it, Claire started to negotiate the issue.  

Stepping out of the car, Claire was met with Owen, cleaning his hands on a cloth. He started to walk towards her when Vic began yelling at her again. She rolled her eyes. “Vic,” she groaned, rubbing at the ridge of her eyes. Owen smiled as he greeted her. “Yes, Vic, no -, hey! Let me speak!” she yelled. 

“Hey, Clai-” Owen started before Claire raised a finger and continued raging back at Vic, who apparently loved the sound of his own voice.

“No, if InGen wants to do Indominus than its gotta go through me and I will make damn well sure you don’t get your hands on the research! Do you think I’m playing around here? Good, now go back to whatever the hell you actually do with your life.” She hung up before he had a chance to question her again.

“That seemed like a fun conversation,” Owen smirked and Claire shook her head. 

“I’d rather cut off my ears than listen to that man’s voice again,” she exaggerated and Owen laughed. 

“You don’t have to see him every other day,” he reminded. 

“Lucky me,” she grinned.

“What can I do for you?” 

“Checking up on the ‘raptors. Are they ready for showing?” she asked and Owen guided her to the paddock. They went up the metal stairs and walked along the walkway until Owen gave the all clear for the raptors to be set loose. The raptors started to screech and race around the paddock, the sound of it enough to set anyone on edge. Claire stuck closer to Owen, just for safety. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. They can deal with me right now, but they may get distracted with a bunch of people around taking pictures,” he was pained to say. 

“So more training?” she asked, listing new things in her head. 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. As Claire’s fingers pulled at her lip, Owen tilted his head. “Is that a problem?” 

“For me. Nothing more,” she waved it off. 

“When are we expected to show them?” 

“Preferably in two weeks,” she confessed.

“That’s not gonna happen.” 

“I figured. I’ll talk to Masrani, push back expectation dates,” she reassured. 

“I can try and work harder,” Owen offered but Claire shook her head. 

“Just make sure they aren’t going to kill anyone,” she joked.

“Got it,” Owen scoffed. “Okay, you’re still stressed out, aren’t you?” he huffed. 

“Am I that obvious?” Claire scoffed, running her hand through her hair. 

“You should go on vacation or something.” 

“What?” That idea was ridiculous. Where did she have the time? She worked in Costa Rica but it didn’t feel like a vacation spot anymore, it was where she worked. 

“Take time, relax. Do something for you,” he suggested but it still made her laugh. 

“I’ll find time in my very busy schedule,” she exaggerated. 

“Just fall asleep first tonight,” he said. 

“Hm?” Her brow furrowed.

“You never took Dream Theory in college did you?” he asked, leading her back down the walkway and down towards her car. 

“Not at all,” Claire shook her head. Owen opened up her car door, letting her slide inside as he held open the door. 

“Whoever falls asleep first usually picks the locations. Just go to bed early enough and dream first, you’ll be fine,” he told her, a reassuring smile on his lips. He shut her door and walked back from the car. He gave a loose wave before turning back towards the paddock. There was something inside of Claire that begged him to turn back and smile again. Pushing it down, Claire drove back to the main building. 

Not managing to get out until past nine, Claire knew she wasn’t going to get to sleep before her soulmate tonight. She wondered if she fell asleep before him every night they dreamed together. Hurrying back to the hotel, Claire went up the elevator, her whole body aching with just moving around to a dozen of locations. Finally making it to her room, Claire collapsed down on her bed. Hand laid on her forehead, it dawned on her that she did need to relax - to take time for herself. She’d been living in her own head for far too long; she needed something. Changing and fitting into her king sized bed so wonderfully, Claire fell into sleep easily. 

She stood in the middle of a street, paved with blue rock and builds that were a pale pink. As always, the sky resembled that of as a green meadow switching between that and a pale blue - her dreams were a scattered mess of colour that had her more at ease than unsettled. She stood in the bare road for a little while until her soulmate, with his still present blurred face, walking down the street to meet her.  

“Where are we?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure. Let’s keep going,” Claire shrugged. He took hold of her hand, warming to his side quickly as they walked silently down the street. When they rounded the block, they were met with the most elegant and stereotypical beach Claire could imagine. It was her dream after all. With perfect golden sands and sharp blue waves crashing onto the shore with white foam. “A beach!” Claire beamed. Her soulmate raced to the sand, taking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Good,” he chuckled. “We can relax, take some time off from worrying,” he said, stripping out of his shirt and pants, walking backwards into the surf as Claire began to undress herself. He only wore his boxer briefs, so there was no reason Claire wouldn’t brave it in her underwear. She stepped out of her dress, tied up her hair and raced into the surf behind him. 

He laughed as she got slashed and squeaked loudly at the force of it. He caught onto her to keep her from falling into the rough swells of the water. “How did I get so lucky?” she batted her lashes and bit her lip.

“Must be fate,” he shrugged. She couldn’t see his face but she knew he was smirking. 

“Funny,” she smiled, even though she rolled her eyes. 

“I thought so,” he chuckled himself before dragging her into the water, dunking them both down and forcing them back to the surface. Claire gasped, not sure if she was mad or exhilarated. It wasn’t as though she wanted to get dunked into the water, but it felt fun and childish; what else were dreams made for? 

After splashing around and watching as her soulmate acting like a fool with his diving and pretending to be sealife, they made it back towards the sands. Laying on the untouched ground were two towels, one in which Claire collapsed down onto and her soulmate taking the other. As Claire looked on him, seeing him fully shirtless for the first time, she noticed the striking and brutal scar on his left shoulder and part of his chest. 

“Where did you get that?” Claire said, reaching over and tracing her finger over the raised skin. 

“Navy. Was with the SEALs for a bit. Getting shot leaves a nasty scar when it’s a shotgun,” he explained, letting her finger run over the scar before he kissed at her fingertips. 

“Shotgun?” 

“Civilian recruit. Knocked me down in my last deployment. Hence why I’m back with people again,” he huffed, trying not to sound upset, but Claire could feel that he missed what he did. Moving up, Claire rested fully at his side and leaned directly onto his chest.

“I’m glad,” she reassured.

“I wish I could kiss again,” he gave a longing sigh. 

“You can kiss me however many times you want.” When she giggled, she noticed the way he shifted and went silent. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Never,” he replied quickly. “I just….want you to know who I am,”

“Someday,” Claire pursed her lips, looking down at his chest once more. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, kissing at her crown. They would remain in the dream, relax and not let any more worries take them. This was the peace they needed. 


	2. Can I Crave What I Can't Have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so goddamn pleased with how this fic is going and I honestly couldn’t wait to post the second chapter so here it is! Unfortunately I don’t know when the next update will be, but hopefully in the next coming weeks. Thank you all for liking it this far, and lets hope that the wait for the chapter will be worth it! xx

Claire felt blissful in the days following. How could she not? Her soulmate made sure there were no pressure, no obligations between them, other than being loving and faithful. All through the week, Claire was on air, feeling pampered and cherished beyond belief. There were no questions and no expectations, just time spent together where Claire could feel at peace with it all. Sleeping was welcome and there something in Claire’s heart that told her she was going to see his face soon - that the scratched out, unrecognisable face was soon going to be the only face she could ever want to look upon her own. 

As the heat rose at the end of the week, Claire wore a summer dress, a dark navy colour with white flowers decorating its design. It gave her room to breathe and escape the heat a little easier; most of the dress codes for staffers changed when the heat rose unexpectedly, so a summer dress still fell nicely into work attire. 

In her office, the shining white of every wall and the pristine glass of the large windows looking upon the park. Yet, the heat was sticking to her, the sweat feeling it was endless. With papers, Claire fanned herself, pacing back and forth trying to concentrate on anything other than the overwhelming feeling that she was being scorched alive. With hair tied up in the messiest bun on the top of her head, she still felt the strands tickling at the back of her neck. She just wanted the next meeting to be over and done with so she could intimidate someone to fix her fan and the air-conditioning in her office. 

The knock came to her door and Owen entered, Claire smiled politely but the hot waves of air that the fanning provided gave nothing to soothing aching skin. Claire rounded her desk, readying to sit in her chair when she saw Owen standing with his hand clenched on the door handle. Claire stopped, tilting her head as Owen seemed unable to stop himself from staring. 

“Something wrong?” she asked, finally sitting down and fanning herself once more. God, why was it so goddamn hot. 

“None...at all…” Owen stuttered. He shook his head and shut the door behind him. “Sorry, is there something I can help you with today?” 

“You came to me, remember?” Claire chuckled, letting the paper finally rest on her desk. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Owen gave a bashful smile before taking a seat in front of Claire. “Vic has been coming around asking for the raptors for a program that I’ve heard nothing about. So as senior asset manager, I’m assuming you know something about it,” he explained. 

“That isn’t on Jurassic World’s agenda. You want to wait whilst I sort this out?” Claire started, taking out her phone and looking for Vic’s number

“All good. I’ll just wait -” Owen questioned, rising from his chair before Claire waved him down. 

“Take a seat, it’s fine,” she said, rising from her chair as the phone started to ring out. 

The phone went unanswered the first time but soon rang with Vic returning the call. When he greeted her, he seemed far more relaxed than Claire wanted - only realising he was using a flirty tone with her when he said her name. 

“Vic, hi,” she said with a soft voice, the anger building in her fist. “Guess why I’m calling,” she said slowly and he groaned. The argument ensued again, never seeming to maintain a civil conversation for more than a few minutes. “Are you seriously going to keep acting like this? I can pull Masrani out of this completely if I wanted to. Trust me, that man loves me,” she told him, watching as Owen stood and made himself busy by her fan. Claire said how he didn’t wear his vest that day, most of his knives and other utilities he held in the leather hanging from his belt in someway. His shirt clung to him, sweat lining out the muscles in his back and the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Claire returned her attention back to the call when she noticed she was looking at Owen for far too long. “No, it doesn’t affect us with InGen, because I can make your life a living hell. I’m like a goddamn militia, Vic. Do you really wanna have this conversation with me again? Good, now I’m going to hang up and never hear about this topic again, we clear?” she yelled before hanging up. 

A soft breeze hit her back, cool and tempered just to have her head falling back. Sighing in delight, Claire turned to see the fan operating as it should and Owen standing beside it, a gentle smile echoing upon his lips. “I uh...I fixed your fan,” he shrugged and Claire laughed, the unmistakable laugh of utter joy after the torture of heat. 

“Thank you! God, I’ve been dying in here,” Claire exclaimed. A single drop of sweat ran down Owen’s forehead, slipping onto his nose until it hung from the tip. There was something so tempting about the way it curves and trailed his skin until it fell. Owen wiped his face as Claire cleared her throat. “Do you want to go grab lunch? I’m starving and I haven’t been able to stop since six this morning,” she suggested, needing to get out of her office for a little while; it was getting far too hot in there. 

“I’m going on break soon anyway, so I can make it earlier.” Owen nodded, moving to the door. He opened it up before letting Claire go through first. They walked to the main quad, full of tourists trying to stick to the shade and hiding from the sun. Some rides and tours were shut down for the day - which was another thing Claire had to deal with. When an asset is unable to appear for the tourists in the park, it cost Jurassic World, but it also made things a lot harder to keep these people around when it was hot and there’s nothing to do. Most of the water exhibitions were sold out and every air-conditioned tour was nearly at full capacity. 

Claire was busy, but she needed just half an hour to herself. Well, almost to herself.

They went to a semi-empty restaurant - it was past rush hour, so most people went back to their rooms or their next destination - and they sat down at a table and orders food. They sat talking about their week, about how he was still getting used to the Raptor training when and the long days of just listening to Vic Hoskins love the sound of his own voice. 

Sipping at her water, Claire looked at the way Owen was acting, somewhat distant and lingering on other things. His gaze flicking to people all around them. When he huffed, Claire glanced over her shoulder to see a couple acting fondly, sneaking a soft kiss amongst themselves, giggling all the while. Claire turned around to Owen, who shifted uncomfortable when he glanced over again.

“Is your soulmate coming to visit soon? It must get lonely out here without her,” Claire mentioned, which seemed to bother Owen the most. 

“I’ve uh….never actually met her,” he cleared his throat. 

“Really?” 

“It’s complicated,” he said, simple and unmoving. The subject was dropped. 

Claire asked about his time on the island, if he found working too difficult or if there was anything he needed from Claire’s standpoint. His shoulders relaxed and began to tell Claire about the times he was hand raising the raptors. As he reenacted the endeavor and showed the small little cuts on his fingers that remained as white lined scars, he didn’t seem to realise how wide he was smiling. He was beaming, one of the biggest smiles ever, and that look of pure joy and excitement had Claire feeling something odd; at peace with it. At peace just seeing it, wondering if he could look at her that way. It wasn’t as if he was saying anything special, it was just the way he said it. Would he ever look like that talking about Claire? Probably not. 

When lunch ended, Claire and Owen, both cooled but s sweat still sticking to their skin, walked back towards Claire’s office area. They were about to walk up the steps when Owen got a call on his walkie, asking him back to the paddock. Claire knew he’d been away from work for a little longer than anticipated, but there was parts of her that didn’t want him to go just yet. Knowing better she smiled as he said he headed off. When he stopped and turned back to Claire, curiosity hiked, her hands clenching. 

“Did you…” he started, but the realisation of what he was asking suddenly dawned on him and he stepped back. “forget it,” he corrected before going to turn away. Claire caught his arm, and by that, Owen suddenly seemed frozen in place. The island was hot, but the touch was cooling, a chill running over her and it appeared to be mutual with Owen.

“What?” she asked softly.

“I was gonna ask you something stupid,” he waved it off.

Claire shook her head with a smile. “Oh come on, it can’t be that -” 

“Did you want to have dinner with me?” he blurted out. Claire took a moment to reply, the information processing through her slowly and unsure.

“Like a…” 

“Yes,” he said back quickly.  

“But you have a soulmate,” she reminded - as if he needed to be told that fact. 

“It’s complicated,” he repeated. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she questioned lightly. 

“No,” his jaw set tight, he moved back from Claire once more, finally out their frozen state. “I said it was stupid. Forget I asked,” he cleared his throat before walking down the steps and going back to the transport bay. Claire stood on the steps for a moment, the sounds of the park filling her ears after a short while, reality hitting hard as the heat became ever present and the sensation that the world may actually be turning came back to her. 

An hour passed, Claire sat in a fresh and cool office that Owen had kindly provided, but all her mind could do was flip over itself, crave more information and try to process this all. Why would he want to? She knew he had reacted to those questions on his soulmate a little oddly, but maybe she wasn’t seeing something. No matter how in love he seemed, there was a tension that was held underneath the surface, one that tore into him more some days and less on the rest. 

Why was she even thinking on it so much? She shouldn’t. No. It was stupid to even consider it. Remember her soulmate, the way he held her and wanted her, how his hands were always tender and treating her like she was the most precious thing to him. It felt wrong to think of anyone else that way. How could he be so wanting and never pressuring her, and for her to think of someone - 

No. No more doubt of her soulmate’s part. This meant nothing. This would just be dinner with nothing more. Claire drove out to the paddock as the afternoon rolled in and Claire had less on her plate. When she stepped out of her car, the entire raptor paddock staff seemed to stand still, watching her before a sharp whistle from higher up shocked them back into work. Claire looked up to see Owen cleaning the sweat from the back of his neck with a cloth. 

“Owen,” Claire breathed, walking towards the paddock steps. 

“Hi,” he replied, making his way down the metal staircase and meeting Claire on the uneven stones. The raptor paddock had to be so far away and on uneven ground, didn’t it? Claire felt like she was going to trip at any moment. They didn’t say anything for a few moments, until Owen looked down at his feet and kicked the stones around. “I’m sorry about earlier, I don’t know -” 

“I’d love to have dinner with you,” Claire interrupted, knowing if she didn’t say it soon, she’d regret it.

Owen’s posture straightened, his shoulders pushing back. Was he always this tall? “Really?” When Claire nodded, Owen’s smile grew. 

“I mean, it’s just dinner, it’s not like anything can really come of it,” she shrugged, her foot tucking behind her other ankle; she was nervous. 

“Yeah. Good. So, tomorrow night?” he suggested and Claire nodded, a chill running down her spine. She couldn’t tell if it was sweat or something else.

“Sounds fun. Good,” she replied quickly, heading back to her car. 

Dreaming came easily that night, her soulmate still wearing that blurred face, a face beneath she may never see - an ever present thought in her mind. They were in a field of sunflowers that looks more like blue tulips, but a field of them nonetheless. Claire raced through them with her soulmate following behind, trying to catch her as she slipped into another row of sunflowers. 

He finally caught her and they went crashing down into the ground, he rolled on top of her as they both couldn’t help but laugh. They were childish and uncaring about responsibilities in their dream, they were just happy. “You seem to be in a good mood. Work good?” he said, brushing hair from her face. 

“Yeah, I suppose. I’m just having dinner tomorrow night,” she shrugged, smiling up at him and her arms around his neck. 

“Should I be jealous?” he asked in a joking voice but there was still an overwhelming feeling of guilt. 

“Of course not! It’s just dinner,” she shook her head, looking up at him, the reality that she couldn’t stare into his eyes or make out his face hurt her. She just wanted to look at him. For once, she just wanted to see his damn face!

“Can you see me?” he asked suddenly, as though he were directly in her head. 

“All night, every night,” she said, sitting up, and trying not to look directly at him.

“My face, stupid,” he laughed, sitting next to her with his knees up and arms wrapped around them. 

“Yeah,” she mumbled. 

“You can’t. It’s okay,” he said, nudging her. 

“Can you see me?” she asked biting at her lip. 

“Clear as day,” he gave back, a beautiful sigh that made it so hard for Claire not to cry. She woke up out of her sleep, a grateful distance between her and her soulmate, and room for her to cry a little while. She couldn’t keep doing this. But there was no way to escape it. 

Saturday was a semi-peaceful day. Claire only worked until midday before taking the rest of the day for herself. When Claire got to her apartment, she went to her wardrobe, rummaging through to see if there was anything good inside to wear. She thought she was going to have to suffer with a dress she wore too often, until she found the dress she’d been keeping hiding right at the back. 

The navy sateen with the low cut neckline had never touched her skin, but later that night when she slipped into it, she couldn’t help but wonder why. It fit like a glove, taking to her curves as the split parted perfectly onto her thigh and the soft fabric flowed when the hot night breeze took it. With her hair up in a loose pony with strands framing her face. Claire’s phone buzzed with a message from Owen.

_ Owen: Did you want to meet outside the restaurant?  _

_ Claire: I’m walking there now _

_ Owen: Okay, cool, waiting outside _

As Claire looked up, she saw Owen’s tall figure standing by the restaurant’s entrance, dark jeans, grey dress shirt and leather jacket over the top. All in all, he was dressed nicely, a clean that he couldn’t acquire on the job for very long. He looked gorgeous. He smiled when he saw her, a spark in his eyes that was shining so brightly, Claire could memorise it - because he had never looked at her that way before. 

“Hey,” she greeted. 

“Look at you all fancy!” he beamed. Claire took the edge of the dress, looking down at it. She felt nervous again. So damn nervous. 

“Is it really that fancy?” 

“No. I mean you look very beautiful, Claire,” Owen said, stepping into her and kissing her briefly on the cheek. He opened the door to the restaurant, letting her walk in first. 

“Well, thank you,” Claire said, feeling the heat running over her chest as her heart was hammering out an unfamiliar beat. 

They were seated quickly, a table reserved and both ordering, knowing the restaurant’s menu well enough from their time on the island. It was dark in the space, only lighting was dim or the candles on the table. Everything around them was romantic, which made the situation a little awkward before they both looked at each other and laughed. They both felt it and there was nothing else to do than to laugh. 

“I never knew you could dress up,” Claire joked and Owen let out a scoff.

“Thought it best,” he shrugged. “I was considering something a little less formal,” he said, pulling at his jacket slightly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s Central America, it’s hot!” he said, his cheeks going a rosy colour, visible even in the mild lighting around them. 

“Don’t tell me you were going to wear board shorts or something,” Claire scoffed before Owen’s tight lips indicated as much. “Oh, you were!”

“I can’t help it!” he argued back and they both chuckled. 

“Glad you dressed up,” she nodded, grateful that he put in effort.

“So am I.” 

Their dinner dinner and drinks came. In between small bites and sips, they talked about average things; the heat, their days, small jokes and little observations they noticed around the island. Even as everything seemed normal, there were things that kept changing and surprising the staff, which turned into small bits of gossip around the island. Claire covered her mouth as she contained a laugh looking at Owen’s shocked face. 

“So, wait, you actually got Lowery the toy dinosaurs on his desk?” he asked, utter surprise and joy written in his expression. 

“I thought he wanted them for his nephew or something!” Claire reasoned, finally breaking and turning into a full on snorty laugh, one that she didn’t like using but she couldn’t help it. She looked at Owen, who held in a laugh, but still remained to have a twinkle in his eye as he looked at her. “What?” she asked. 

“You just have a funny way of laughing,” Owen smiled. Claire calmed her laugh, straightening her shoulders.

“Hey, come on. My soulmate loves my snorting,” she defended. 

“Does he really?” 

“He says it’s very endearing,” Claire smirked.

“Very fitting,” Owen tilted his head and Claire couldn’t help but burst into laughter again. 

Claire then asked about his personal life. No matter how much Claire knew about his work or small parts of his personality, she was still left in the dark about Owen’s personal life. Staying away from the soulmate issue, Claire picked family, asking about his mom and dad, how they were doing and what they were up to. Owen talked his dad being in the army, which inspired him to join and how his mother and he had a somewhat complex relationship because of the whole army thing. 

“And then my mom didn’t talk to me until I came home,” he shrugged, sipping at his beer again. 

“That must have been tough,” Claire said, leaning back in her chair. 

“Dad wrote on behalf of her. When I got hit in my last tour, she finally decided to talk to me again,” he scoffed. 

“What happened?” she asked, a little concerned this time. Owen shook his head, waving off the subject.

“Nothing serious. I’m fine now, so mom checks up on me constantly,” he exaggerated with a chuckle. 

“Lucky you,” Claire replied. 

“I don’t know, my mom likes to send way too many letters and calls far more than a grown man needs to be called by his mother,” Owen gave a cheeky smile and Claire laughed again, the mood always remaining light and fun, no expectations of pity, just listening and empathising. 

Claire talked about how distant she is with her family, how her mom made it hard to talk about her personal life because it always ended with soulmate talks, or how her dad just didn’t defend her. Karen was still close with Claire, but it was odd talking about her personal life because Karen didn’t have her soulmate - hers passed a few months after she turned twenty-one. And because Claire dove into work constantly, she didn’t exactly know her nephews. 

Yet, even after venting about her family, Owen joked and made everything feel like it was nothing to worry about further. And it didn’t. He made the weight lift and it was all back to the odd haircut that Zara’s fiance decided to get before his bachelor party - one, Zara was still fighting again. 

When the bill was paid, they both walked out, the heat of the last few days still remaining in the air, but cooled by the shores that crashed onto the island. Claire clutched at herself for a moment before the heat started to build around her again. Owen smiled at her, rubbing at the back of his neck, the awkwardness returning for a moment. 

“I had a good time tonight,” he said.

“So did I,” Claire sighed, an echo of surprise in her words. 

“You didn’t expect to, did you?” He raised his brow, daring her to lie to him. 

“Honestly, no,” she confessed and Owen nodded. “Felt good to go out though, take some time with a friend and just relax.” 

“Yeah,” he looked away. He rummaged through his pocket, finding his keys and twirling them on his finger. “I’m tired as all hell, and riding back out to the bungalow is gonna take ages,” he paused. “I know it’s not exactly gentlemen of me, but can we call it a night here?” he asked, worrying setting in how brow. Claire nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I don’t want you walking me back to my room. It might be a little weird,” she laughed, stepping in towards him and embracing him. They held onto each other for a quite a while, a familiar hold that wasn’t too tight, but rather, the perfect and caring pressure that made her want to stay in his arms for a little longer. 

“Goodnight, Claire,” he said over her shoulder before leaving her hold and walking to the transport bay, his bike the only one there. 

“Night, Owen,” she called out as he started his bike. He waved before riding off down the dirt track and going into the bush. 

Claire walked back to her apartment, the echoes of a song playing in her head in joy. She hadn’t heard the song earlier in the day, but it drummed the beat and she hummed the lyrics as she felt like there was a skip in her step. Maybe it was the alcohol; making her a little giddy. It didn’t matter, she was happy. She walked into her room, changing into her pajamas and dancing to the song. What was it? 

Ah! 

_ You Can Call Me Al!  _

An 80s song that she had listened to growing up. She played it, dancing along to the beat that was old in the current days, but her whole body felt in need of a release, something to stop containing all the fun that radiated through her bones. When Claire finally collapsed down onto her bed, she realised how ridiculously young she was acting. It was an odd feeling, but one she welcomed in the moment. Claire curled up in her bed, sleep taking her with welcome arms. 

Claire expected the pink fields of grass, strange surroundings that blended in with colours that didn’t correspond with actual nature. Instead, she was still in bed. Well, not her bed. A bed. It was larger than her own and it seemed to stretch out for yards and yards. When Claire looked down at herself, she found that she was only in her underwear, the dark silk underwear she wore to match and hide underneath her dress. 

Then, the bed shifted. Turning, she saw Owen beside her, doing the same as her - staring off the side of the bed, then to himself until his gaze fell on Claire. They both looked at each other, neither of them saying a word. Claire was dreaming. But she was dreaming about Owen. And Owen in his underwear? She didn’t get it. She wanted to say something, to think of something but everything was blank. 

Before Claire could even understand it, Owen was leaning over, kissing her with an eagerness that Claire had never experienced. Her reaction is that of complete instinct, her hands running up and through his hair, tugging on the soft curls as he rolled on top of her. His hips rock into her, her own bucking into him with need. She’d never thought she’d feel this real in a dream that wasn’t with her soulmate, but everything felt electric and nerve wracking. It felt right. And as her mind thought on the guilt of her soulmate, Owen’s hand slide down between her legs and Claire’s back arch in pleasure. 

Fingers tentative to touch her, but then it was a need that Claire couldn’t help but give into her. She ground against his hand, her fingers to help guide his rough fingers to where she wanted them to go. The stubble on his face scraped at her cheek as he kissed down her neck. Claire felt herself breath a little harsher before she finally whimpered out a pathetic noise of need and want. His other hand has moved up her chest, slipping under her bra and his fingers started to pinch at her nipple. 

She doesn’t mean to, but she moans his name, his kisses coming a little harder against her neck and his fingers working faster, thumb rubbing directly against her clit. Claire pants out, trying to gain leverage, see if she can urge him to finally give himself over to her, but she was so damn weak against his efforts. Her hand lay on his chest, as the other curled around his back. Her nails dug into his skin, noticing an odd pattern on his chest but it all slipped from her mind when her toes curled and she bucked harder against his hand. 

When Claire came, Owen’s hand slipped from her breast, skimming up her cheek and his forehead rested against hers. He gave soft sounds to calm her down, her hand still clawing at him as each ripple of her orgasm came over her. Her body gave out and she collapsed down, Owen pressed kisses across her neck before tenderly kissing her in such a familiar way but she didn’t care because they both knew what was going to happen next. Claire took off her bra and underwear as Owen threw his boxers aside, leaning her back down and moving in between her legs. 


	3. Stop Looking Away and Want Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And months of writers block later, I FINISHED A CHAPTER! I should probably wait to finish the next one, but I'm too amped my dudes. TOO AMPED! Please enjoy, because I had so much fun writing it! xx

Claire woke with a start, springing up in her bed, sweat dripping all over her. Her skin felt like fire - but there was no heat in her room. There was a throbbing between her legs that she couldn’t deny or shy from - it felt like Owen was still between her thighs, fucking her until she couldn’t help but yell out his name over and over again. 

Oh, god. 

Owen. 

How the hell was she going to look at him the same way? 

She just had a sex dream about one of the closest friends she had. She had dreamt that he was inside her, letting their bodies roll and find their own paces, how he made her come until she was shaking underneath him, how his lips trailed over her sweltering skin and the mutterings of pleasure as they lay bare against each other.

Claire needed to cool down, she needed space from her bed and the heat of her skin. Taking her towel to her bathroom, she went into the cold spray of the shower, the water gradually being turned up as the fever that raged within her was taken away. Until, she felt the lingering sensation running up her waist, the ghosting touch of his calloused fingers as they rounded the curves he seemed to crave to touch. The welcomed way his body pressed against hers and the soft, barely present kiss that he trailed up her neck.

Gasping, Claire kept her eyes open, not allowing herself to chase after the fantasy and the touch she was severely lacking. She rushed the shower, making it as short as she possibly could. When she was out and dry, Claire dressed in anything that wouldn’t feel confining. Hating that her mind and body were betraying the beating of her guilty heart. It took Claire no time to get down to the office with a coffee in hand; she just needed to keep her mind focusing on one task after the next. 

Putting her work forward, the dreams from the night were fading to the day. Work pushed the thoughts of Owen out of her mind, and the only thoughts she had of him over the day associated him with reptiles. To her, the dream was a cocktail of longing for her soulmate and the night she’d experienced with Owen - nothing more, nothing less. It’s what it had to be. 

Meeting after meeting and paperwork that just kept mounting, Claire was busy with everything all at once. Her once burning skin and thighs that felt bound to each other for friction now sat sedated by the pressures of work. When fifteen minutes past two in the afternoon rolled around, Claire was left alone and abandoned with no work. Looking through her schedule, she realised why it was so bare; she had a meeting with someone that hadn’t shown up. A meeting with Owen. Taking a tight breath, Claire walked outside her office to peer around to Zara, who had a nice and tidy binder of her wedding plans laid on her desk. 

“Zara, has Owen Grady called?” Claire asked. Zara closed the binder, going through her notes and checking the time of everything. 

“No,” she said longly, shaking her head. “Is something wrong?”

“I have a regular meeting with him. He hasn’t shown up,” Claire huffed, her foot rubbing up the length of her opposite ankle. 

“Do you want me to call down?” Zara asked. Claire shook her head.

“No. I’ll go,” she said, going back to her desk for her keys. 

The drive was uneventful, she listed things in her head that she needed to talk to Owen about, including that of the raptor training and time it was expected, as well as the new facility that could be closer to the other attractions. When Claire stopped at the paddock, noticing the lack of movement and scattered staffers, she knew something was up. Climbing out, she immediately found Barry, his hands idly fixing up one of the handling stations for the raptors. 

Walking over to him, Barry’s reaction to her was unusual; it was as though he dreaded seeing her. Stopping what he was doing, Barry walked over to her. “This isn’t a good time, Claire,” he said, looking over his shoulder. As they both looked, they saw a grumpy looking Owen, his face a scowling mess and his shoulder hunched as he tossed meat into the paddock. 

“What?” Claire scoffed. 

“He’s uh...he’s not entirely good today,” he explained. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’ll see,” Barry sighed, letting Claire walk up the steps and across the walkway. 

“Hey! Owen!” she called out, waving him down and shading her eyes to view him better. His reaction was foreign to her; he saw her, saying something under his breath before walking in the opposite direction to her. 

“What is it, Ms Dearing?” he rumbled. Claire’s shoulder deflated, his tone hurting her. He spat back his remark without even lifting his gaze to her. 

“Dearing? What’s with the mood?” she scoffed. When Owen stopped and turned in front of her, she was caught with the shocking sight of an angry Owen - something she’d never been privy to before. 

“We’re at work.” 

“You openly joke at work all the time. It’s practically impossible to get you to stop,” she reminded, her hands binding and loosening as she tried not to seem as hurt as she was. How could things be so perfect the night before and now, things was sour and cold. 

“Claire, I’m working, what do you need?” he snapped. As Claire’s hands bound, she was officially done with this day. 

“You know what? You’re an ass!” she said loudly enough that all staffers in the paddock were now looking at them, staring in wonder at the spark of anger that ran through the air. Hell, the velociraptors could probably feel Claire’s anger. Walking back along the platform, Claire was trying to reason with herself, to walk back to him and tell him to stop the attitude so she could do her work; but when her mind flashed to the image of his hand bound in her hair, she refused to turn back towards him. 

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know!” he yelled back. And that’s when Claire snapped. 

“You’re making up that meeting tomorrow and you’re bringing Barry. That’s something you didn’t fucking know!” she shouted from the other side of the platform before storming off to her car. She didn’t wait around or try to calm herself down when she got inside, she just drove. When there was nothing but clear roads, she felt the overwhelming urge to just stop, to give herself a minute. Pulling over to the side of the road, she allowed herself the time to breathe, the way her stomach was doing turns and her head was screaming at her. 

“It was one meeting. One stupid meeting,” she said to herself, hunching over the wheel. Why did it feel so heartbreaking to walk away, to argue with a man she detested many months ago? He snapped and something inside her broke - a tether of strength. It was rebuilt in a moment, but she couldn’t bear the moment of weakness; especially in front of him. She was better than being upset in her car - she was better than what that made her feel like. Calling down to Zara, Claire took the rest of her Sunday off and went back to her apartment. There, she relaxed with a bath, reading as the warmth of the water embraced her. She hated that in the morning, she forced herself to forget the way Owen’s face fell apart in pure joy, because all she could remember was how it contorted to an unpleasant scowl. 

At the side of the bath, her phone buzzed repeatedly. Placing down her book, she looked at it, and seeing the goofy contact photo for Owen, she sighed. Was she even going to answer it? She took the rest of the day off - at this point, was he even worth her time. She sunk down further into her bath, watching as the water rippled when her legs moved and toes played at the edge of the surface. All she wanted was to go to sleep that night, to dream of her soulmate and have him hold her as tightly as his arms would allow him. 

 

*~*~*

 

Going to bed that night, Claire fell beautifully into sleep. She didn’t go peacefully, but the sleep itself took her in like an embrace and she was walking on what felt like clouds. She walked the streets, unable to find her soulmate, but she just kept walking; it wasn’t a matter of if, but when. It wasn’t until she found a brick paved road with trees tall and intertwining their branches, that she gathered there was something special about the path. It being lined with candles also gave things away for her. 

Walking until the end, she found him, face still a scratched out blur, but put together in a tidy suit and candles surrounding him. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was smiling. Looking down at herself, her casual dress turned into a formal green gown that graced down to her feet. 

“What is all this?” she giggled, picking up the dress and twirling it around as her soulmate shrugged. 

“I just wanted to do something special,” he laughed. 

“You’re a ridiculous fool,” Claire laughed again, playing with her hair, just trying to prim herself up a little. She knew she didn’t have to, but there was something in her that wanted to impress him, to just be happily beautiful around him. 

“I think so,” he agreed and it made Claire laugh a little more. “But do you like it? I didn’t know if it was your thing, but I decided to give it a go.” He was nervous, playing with his hands, running fingers between knuckles. 

“It’s amazing,” she smiled. 

“Well, come here and show me how to dance,” he gestured towards himself. 

“And you think I know how?” she replied, stepping back. He huffed, reaching out to her. 

“I know you do. Now come here,” he replied, taking her hand and pulling her in towards him. Ten years, and never once had they danced together. It was strange, but so perfect. They danced in awful fashion to start, as he struggled to keep in time without music. But, eventually, he got the hang of it. He stepped in time, guiding Claire and dipping her playfully. Perfect. But when they slowed down, and just swayed, Claire couldn’t help but have her day on her mind. The only place she couldn’t escape her own mind. 

“Hey,” he said, suddenly, picking up her chin. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just having a hard day. I didn’t expect to.” Claire sighed, putting her head on his shoulder.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really.” 

There was silence as they stood unmoving in each other’s arms. “Can I ask you…” he started. “Can you see my face?” 

“Well, I -” Claire started, looking anywhere but at him. She didn’t want him seeing her.

“You can’t,” he said, his tone a little hard. “I just wanted to know if things….had changed,” he explained. Maybe he knew - knew that she dreamed of someone else, or maybe he dreamed of someone else too. Either way, knowing or not knowing, there was no change in their dreams. 

“I’m sorry,” Claire said quietly. 

“It’s okay,” he soothed, but Claire pushed on his chest. He didn’t sound pleased, he sounded upset and she couldn’t take him sounding like that.

“Why do you have to keep asking?” she asked, picking up her dress and walking off; she felt like she couldn’t breath when his blurred face just stared at her, watching her with disappoint written into him. “You know the moment I see your face, I’ll be over the moon about it!” she yelled. His hand caught her arm, pulling her into him until he tucked her head underneath his chin.

“Hey! Hey! Shh,” he said, his remorse engulfing her in a moment. His hand smoothed over her hair, fingers at the nape of her neck as he kept her still in his embrace. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought something had changed. It’s okay. It’ll always be okay,” he whispered and Claire couldn’t help but cry into his chest. 

 

*~*~*

 

Claire sat in her office, signing and reading over papers. It was tedious work, but programs always tried to sneak things past Claire. It wasn’t rate either, most facilities always tried to work something impractical into their budget or try and get more things that they don’t need. As Operations Director, she had to have the final say, and she always had to live by a goddamn budget. 

A knock came to her door and Claire called out for them to come in. Looking up to see Owen and Barry, Claire relaxed into her chair. They walked to a chair each, sitting across from her. She smiled across to both of them, and Barry smiled back; Owen, on the other hand, didn’t budge. Claire rolled her eyes and directed her attention to Barry. 

The meeting was fine enough, Barry explained some of the issues with the paddock but the improvements that had occured over the last month since Owen had been there. Barry handed over unfiled paperwork, a short glare at Owen who had been putting it off from both Barry and Claire. Handing over an in-depth document about the assets, Claire took a quick read over it, noticing the five names that had become familiar over the last few years. Blue, Charlie, Delta, Echo, and Fox, the five velociraptors that had been hand raised by Owen and Barry since they hatched. Fox, the youngest, was the one that had the most issues, as she couldn’t keep up with her sisters and was a constant issue in any reports. As Claire took a quick look over the unfiled paperwork, she took note of how many of them were about Fox. Now she was beginning to understand why he didn’t want to file them. 

“Fox is still suffering from the asthmatic problems from months ago. Henry has been suggesting that we separate her from the others,” Barry explained. Biting at her lip, Claire noted the separation. 

“Wouldn’t this result in the others forming a closer attachment and could possibly -” 

Owen cleared his throat, answering before Barry. It was the first time he talked the whole meeting. “Attack Fox when she returns? Yes.” 

“So, what is the solution?” Claire asked both of them.

“Henry is going to prescribe some exams, and possibly even a procedures to see if there is something we’re missing,” Barry explained. Claire nodded and wrote down the change. She wanted Fox ahead of the pack in terms of health before the start of their show in the main part of the park.

There were a few other notes from the other raptors that Barry informed her on, but he was beginning to notice the obvious irritation that Owen and Claire had for each other. He began wrapping things up faster so the tension died down, and Claire could tell; she really didn’t mind him doing so. As he finished, Claire reached out, shaking both the men’s hands.

“Thank you for your time today,” she said.

“Thanks,” Owen muttered as they both stood. Claire gritted her teeth.

“Stop, Mister Grady. I need to speak to you,” she said and he groaned. 

“I’ve got a bunch of work to finish, so can it wait?” 

“If you want to keep your job, you’re going to stop and stay right here,” she said sternly, gripping her pen. As she waited, Owen and Barry stared at each other. Owen’s head hung before he gestured Barry off. 

“I’ll be there in a minute, Barry,” he replied. Barry sighed and headed out the door. Owen came back, sitting across from Claire. She sighed.

“I’m not going to fire you.” 

“I guessed as much,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“I don’t care that you’re pissed at me -” 

“I’m not pissed at you,” he tried, a small chuckle in his voice. 

“I _don’t_ _care_. Just stop disrespecting me at work,” she said sternly, and the realisation seemed to dawn on both of them. Owen nodded, an apology he couldn’t find himself to stay aloud. “You have a meeting, keep it. You can go,” she said and Owen nodded, standing and walking out. He didn’t turn around at all, and Claire was thankful for that. She wouldn’t know how to look at him after what she’d said. 

Her day was average, just a few other meetings and a talk with Masrani. Simon always liked hearing about the park, but was disappointed to hear about Fox and the raptor program. He just tutted over the phone, just a tone of irritation and trying to bargain with Claire. She refused to budge. She liked the raptor team, they were hard workers, and if they needed time, she was going to give it to them. 

As the almost never ending conversation ended with Simon, Claire came around to ask Zara to get her a coffee. Instead, on her desk, she found a large cup of coffee with her name written on the side. “Zara, you know how much I love a mid afternoon coffee,” Claire almost cheered, reaching for the cup and smelling its content. 

“I didn’t get it for you,” Zara said, and Claire bunched up her brow at her. “Owen dropped it off,” Zara smirked. And for some unknown reason, Claire chuckled, taking a sip and tasting the perfect coffee lift her. “Maybe he wanted to apologise for being an ass.” 

“Does the whole park know about that?” Claire groaned, sipping at her coffee and leaned against the doorframe. 

“Barry told me. Apparently you scared the hell out of paddock. Owen was acting like a hurt puppy all afternoon,” Zara laughed.

“Serves him right for acting like an idiot,” Claire muttered. 

“Well, he had been really angry all morning. Even shouting and swearing at other workers,” Zara said, leaning across her desk. Claire blinked fast, knowing that Owen rarely ever got mad at other workers - he was always the joker. 

“Seriously? Why didn’t anyone bring it up?” 

“Because he apologised after you left.” Claire sipped at her coffee and went back to her office, finishing up all her work for the day. She honestly couldn’t wait to sleep that night. She wanted to share a good night with her soulmate without some issue arising. 

 

*~*~*

 

Claire’s body was electric, a spark of unmeasurable lust running through her as something ran over her. Lips, tentative and delicate, started up her stomach, tongue trailing over her skin as though she tasted like honey to the mouth that lingered. Glancing down, her body was all bare this time, nothing to hide behind, just her and Owen as he kissed his way up her body. He took his time, tasting and nipping at her just to hear her squirm. 

There wasn’t much hesitation from Claire’s mind as she pulled him up, fingers on his neck, slightly grazing across his stubble. Slinging her arm around the back of his neck, she kissed him fiercely, begging this version of him to stop being so delicate with her and make her whimper at his mercy. 

Against her stomach she felt the heat of his cock pressing into her, twitching as he body rolled to his. To her chest, she felt a pattern she was familiar with, the same one from her last dream about him. And she realised, her mind filled in what she was missing from Owen with a chest she recognised - her soulmate’s.

When she felt him start to stroke himself, there was a fire in Claire that burned for something she hadn’t tried in years and that she wanted to feel so badly. Touching against his lips, pausing their moment, Claire turned over onto her stomach, feeling him following after her perfectly. He pressed in deep within her, her moan coming out of her throat much like a howl. Owen let out a hearty moan, his mouth pressing into her shoulder and biting down as he began to get a pace.

It was slow to start with, Claire’s gradual bucks back into Owen as his cock moved in further and out until his tip was barely inside. She gasped everytime, the emptiness of him was shock when he filled her so perfectly. Claire’s hands bound into her sheets, her shoulders twists and she tried desperately to stay on her hands and knees but her elbows were failing her. Owen started to move faster over her, his chest the only thing pressing to body for long periods as everything else was moving. His mouth trailed from her shoulder to her neck, whimpers of pleasure as his cock rocked her body and his tongue tracing devious things into her neck. 

When his tongue trailed down her spine, Claire reached back for his hand, a shock that had her reaching for him. Touching at his hand, he let it go freely, being guided by her own touch. The lust of it, the thought alone spurred her on. She traced his hands up her chest until she made his finger find themselves around her neck, gripping loosely, but tightening when he gave just the right thrust. 

Claire gave over moan after moan as he drove himself home and it got her first orgasm to its climax. She cried out just as Owen pulled back on Claire’s throat. She moved with him, forced into his lap as he thrust with hips that didn’t stop for anything. Claire panted out her orgasm as Owen pulled back on her hair with his free hand. Their lips found each other, kissing as Owen kept her moaning as he hit just the right spot, sparking her to grind and move down harder against him. 

“Say my name,” she whimpered. Owen’s lips trailed over her cheek, moving down to her neck. His hand unwound from her hair, trailing down until he was letting his fingers run along the slick mess they had created. He licked at his fingers before returning them to a source of pleasure that made Claire sound pathetic under his control. “Owen, say my name,” she whined as his fingers played with her clit. He was making her unable to sit still, twisting and grinding as hard as she could against him, just needing to feel him inside her until they’re both spent and his cock and fingers were the cause of it all. 

“Claire,” he muttered, tongue tracing on her neck. He grunted as he fucked her just a little harder than before and Claire cried out, wanting to bite down on him. “Fuck, keep going,” he moaned, biting into her shoulder again. When she felt her second orgasm coming on, there was nothing. She was left alone, and the brink of her orgasm faded to just the dull ache of a wasted opportunity. And then there was a loud tune playing. 

  
  


*~*~*

 

Claire jumped out of bed, falling onto her floor. Her phone was blazing out her ringtone and she didn’t expect it in her dead sleep and temperature raising dream. Scrambling for the phone, she picked it up, seeing Barry’s number. “What is it?” Claire slurred, her eyes springing open but not quite to full alert behaviour. 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said, a little frantic on the other end. It was slowly waking her up. “I’ve been told to call you for emergencies,” he explained. 

“What’s happened?” she asked, already rushing around her pitch black room trying to find anything to wear. She pulled on sweatpants and grabbed the thinnest cardigan she had. 

“We need you down at the raptor paddock. Something’s happening,” he told her, and Claire was already grabbing for her keys as she toed on some sneakers. 

“I’ll be right there,” she answered, hanging up and going down to the garage as fast as she could. It was two in the morning, and there was definitely something up because the entire group of InGen people rushing to the main building. This wasn’t good. This was going to be a terrible night.

The moment Claire got the raptor paddock, it was silent. There was no rushing, there was barely any movement. It was so quiet. Claire walked, trying to find any sign of what happened. Her heart was racing, blood rushing in her ears, and all she could think was that someone had died. She’d never had to deal with a death yet. A few missing limbs, but no deaths. When Barry caught her arm, Claire sighed out a breath. 

“It’s Fox, Claire,” he said. 

“What’s happened?” 

He shook his head, palming a hand over his mouth. “She’s gone.” Claire felt uneasy. When she thought about a death, it was always a person, a human employee that she had to think about. A dinosaur was out of her league, out of her depth. But there was something she knew for sure; these men, every person surrounding this paddock knew these dinosaurs like they were kin. And to Barry and Owen, they were. When she looked at Barry, his eyes were red and the splotches in his cheeks told her enough about the tears he had wished he hadn’t shed. 

“What?” she exclaimed softly. 

“Henry thinks she never fully formed one of her lungs, and with the strain of keeping up with the other girls…” he cleared his throat, looking down at the ground before looking back at her. “She couldn’t make it much longer,” he inhaled, and just by that, Claire knew this was the hardest day of his career. Her hand running over his shoulder, trying her best to comfort a man who obviously didn’t want to break. 

“Where’s Owen?” Barry pointed to the cage, and Claire’s heart shattered at the sight. Inside the pen, the four other velociraptors were bucking out cries, and Owen sat on the ground, the limp raptor, cradled in his arms. 

Walking slowly, Claire made sure when she knelt down, she blocked a view of Owen from anyone nearby. She edged closer to him, her hand resting on his knee for a moment to gain his attention. 

“Hey,” she said softly.

“What?” he sniffed, trying to hide whatever he was feeling, but there was such anguish behind the cold look that wasn’t going to let him lie. 

“No one can see you,” she whispered, her hand resting on his shoulder. Not even an hour before she was crying out his name, but this, this felt more intimate than anything she could imagine she’d do with him. “It’s okay,” she said just as Owen bent and he started to sob against the poor animals neck. She knelt closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder and rubbing his back. It was all she could think to do, all she knew how to comfort someone. She hoped, that for a short while, she helped him. 


	4. Touch My Heart With Soft Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s another chapter! Hoping for one last chapter before the year is out!

The days following were silent. There was room for it, no more disturbances, nothing to say to someone who had lost so much. What was there to say when someone lost the most precious of things; a pet, a piece of yourself, a piece of your family. Claire stalled Masrani, she kept his mind away from the raptors and away from Owen. The paddock was empty, every day it was blank of people, save for Barry who fed them and tried to smile in greeting to Claire. Both of them failed to conjure something so fake. 

When family day came around, the amount of love that flooded the staff was sicken to Claire. Couples paraded their love like they should, enjoying the company of their soulmate rather than the longing of dreams. Yet, from the outside, alone and unaccompanied, it was a torture that she was forced into by her own mind. She cursed herself to look upon love and ultimately loathe the prospect of it, as she could never experience it first hand. 

Instead, on this family day, she was being visited by Karen; a visit she was craving for a few months now. Her sister raced to her, embracing her with the tightest of holds that confined Claire to breathing harshly. 

“It’s good to see you too, Karen,” Claire laughed as her sister let her loose. Karen chuckled, taking Claire by the cheeks to examine her. 

“I’ve missed you!” Karen said, eyes going thin as her cheeks rounded in a smile. 

“I’ve missed you too!” Claire sighed, taking her sister’s hand. Claire knew she only had a little time with Karen, as her and the family were having a vacation on the mainland. Lunch was the only time for themselves. Finding a restaurant with little people, Claire and Karen ordered and talked amongst themselves, catching up on home life and work. It was nice to hear what was going on with her sister, but Claire was beginning to get distracted by the couples pouring into the restaurant. The atmosphere around the two Dearing girls was harsh, bitter and unforgiving of the love and pride that people had around them.

“So, soulmates everywhere,” Karen chuckled, and Claire shifted. She’d never been around so many people that were obviously in love. 

“Yeah. Kind of gross,” Claire scoffed, playing with the ends of her hair. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Karen hummed, resting her arms on the table. 

“Well you have someone,” Claire shrugged. 

“Not my soulmate,” she retorted and Claire inhaled sharply.

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Karen waved it off. “Where’s yours?” 

“I wouldn’t know.” 

“Why?” 

“He’s been distant. Just got a lot of things on his mind, I guess.” Claire had noticed him not fully acknowledging her when they dreamed together, and she didn’t want to press the issue - she said she was there if he needed to talk. That was the last word on the topic. It hurt to not know, to be on the end with no answers. 

Karen suddenly reached across the table, catching Claire’s hand and holding it tightly. “Don’t let him go, Claire,” she pleaded and Claire nodded in return. 

“I’m not planning to,” she smiled, tucking hair behind her ear. As Claire and Karen both cupped their mugs of coffee, Claire wanted to ask something she hadn’t done in a long time. “I know...you don’t talk about it. But, how did it feel?” she asked with caution. 

“What feel?” 

“It. When  _ it _ happened,” Claire emphasised. 

“Oh,” Karen looked down, her one word response wavered in surprise. 

“You don’t have to answer,” Claire reassured, but Karen shook her head and looked back at Claire, sighing as she took in what she was going to say. 

“I remember the pain like it happened only a few seconds ago,” Karen explained and Claire felt like she stopped breathing. The roll of her shoulder made her shift, but tried to hide the way her body felt foreign to her. “the utter loneliness of him not being there anymore. There were times where I wished I never knew him at all,” Karen said, taking a deep sigh and sipping at her coffee. 

“Are you…are things not good with Scott?” Claire swallowed hard, her hands binding together and crushing the other. The tension in her body that built was rolling through her with question after question. She didn’t want it; her hands were her only escape. 

“Claire, we’re both longing for something more. I just wish I knew what it’s like to feel like you do everyday,” Karen huffed in frustration. 

“It’s not hard, Karen,” Claire scoffed, trying to brush off the subject, the devastating thought still lingering in her lind like a missile waiting for the moment to shatter her. 

“But I want someone to look at me like they’d die if I looked away and collapse at my feet when I looked back,” Karen remarked and Claire held in the pain, a ripple of it flowing through her, washing over the wounds that were slicing open all over. Everything about her stung. 

“I feel the same,” Claire said in a small voice, so weak that it could barely break past her lips; but Karen could hear. She always listened to Claire. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Just tough stuff. I’ll be okay,” she stopped herself from feeling it. She needed the distraction. “Tell me about the boys,” she smiled, faking the feeling of love and pride to try and feel it through memories and facts. She needed something stable to stand on, if not for a few more moments.

The lunch went on fine after that, all their conversations were diverted from mentioning soulmates again, spite the couples that surrounded them. Their conversations stayed civil, but the questions still rolled through Claire, tidalwaves crushed her and binding her into a feel of discomfort as each moment fell to the next. Claire waved off her sister and immediately went back to her apartment. She tossed her shoes to the side and paced her room. She felt the urge to move, to just keep moving but her lungs weren’t supporting her anymore. Collapsing down to the side of her bed, Claire clutched onto the sheets, trying to regain her breath, as her body shut down, stilling from the urgent need of pacing just a few seconds before. 

She broke into whimpers, her knees lifting up to her chest as the notion ran through her but never quite made sense to her scared limbs. She was shaking, trembling just trying to get her body to relax, but no matter how hard she tried to breathe, she was stuck in the same position on the floor. Frozen limbs and hands that wouldn’t let get, she was terrified of herself and what she couldn’t face. Her breathing was ragged, the air filtering into her through closed off airways and everything was getting harder and harder to maintain. 

When the knock came to her front door, she jumped, holding tight to her bedsheets. And for the first time, she breathed, her body beginning to shake as the stillness was gone and she felt as though she was an unstoppable force. Clearing her face as her foot tapped on the door, Claire inhaled and sniffed away the pain that once ran over.

“Who is it?” she called out with a wavering voice.

“It’s Owen,” he said, but his voice was weaker than it usually was, less confident and more in need. “Is everything okay?” he asked. Claire sniffed, remaining in her spot, the thought of getting up on her feet is a torture in itself. 

“Can you please go away?” she asked, the crack in her voice noticeable, more so than she needed it to. 

“What’s wrong?” he responded, concern in his voice. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Please leave,” she practically begged.

“Claire, I -” 

“Please,” she said, her final plea as she buried her face in her hands. There was silence, a long silence but she could tell he hadn’t gone. It hurt more that he was hearing her soft sobs, the pathetic nature of her pain. 

“Call if you need anything,” he said in a softer voice, and finally, he was gone. 

Feeling small was foreign to Claire, and no one had confined her to it except for herself. She felt so distant from herself that she couldn’t recognise the strong woman she was and the scared woman that couldn’t stop crying in that moment. If she were to fall asleep with the silence of no soulmate and no one to think of but herself. But the emptiness would tear her apart. 

It took her a few more moments to regain any sense of self, to move from the ground and get herself water. Cleaning her face and changing from her clothes into the loosest things she could find and crept into her bed. She didn’t sleep and she did feel guilty about abandoning her job, but everything was burned from her - energy, drive, the will to just move. Instead, she sat up in her bed and watched anything she could, reading when her viewing became tiresome. 

When night came, she slept with disrupted moments. She could never get into her dreams, the only sleep she got was dreamless and uneventful. She curled herself tighter, hauling her blankets over her to create the illusion of arms that could embrace her. The last time she slept so awfully, it was the day after she told him - told him that he was faceless to her and she couldn’t bear to see him. 

Waking up exhausted forced her into her office with two cups of coffee, begging for them to speed her tired limbs into overdrive. As Claire sat in her office, she read through her schedule, seeing Owen was put in the middle of her day. There was something that kept her energised, the thought of seeing him, to know he’s right there and maybe even happy after the week of distance she’d given him. Maybe. Claire just needed something to focus on. When the meeting came up and he walked through the door, Claire couldn’t help but smile just a little.

“Mister Grady,” she greeted as he sat down opposite to her. 

“Ms Dearing,” he said in return, trying to smile, but there was a nervousness to him, as though he was anticipating something. 

“So, I think we need to talk about the program,” she said and there was a tight inhale. As she saw him, she knew why he was acting the way he was. 

“Yes.” 

Claire went through the papers on her desk, collecting all the relevant ones together and trying to collect herself. “I’ve kept Masrani away and he won’t try and re-establish the program until you’re ready, but we would prefer that all issues are resolved in five weeks. If we are sure that the program can be successful at the end of five weeks, we’ll work together to try and slowly progress them into the parks attractions,” she explained, looking back at Owen, who had never seemed more surprised. 

“Claire, that’s a lot. You didn’t have to,” he said, his words coming out stunted and unsure. 

“I would do it for any division,” she shrugged, “but you needed time. So I stalled.” When he smiled, she couldn’t help but enjoy the moment with him. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, “you really didn’t have to go out of your way.” 

“I didn’t do -” 

“I heard that Masrani was threatening your job when you were negotiating,” he smirked, as though he was admiring the risk. And he was right about it; Masrani had made some threats against Claire’s job, even the velociraptor teams jobs - but she knew better. Claire knew the pressure he was under to upgrade and provide a welcoming experience at the park, which meant pushing for new attractions. He would push until they had something new. 

“He likes me too much to fire me,” Claire laughed. 

“Thank you though. You risked a lot to help us all out,” he said with a shrug. 

“It was nothing,” she said, tucking hair behind her ear. 

Claire handed over all the notes, pointing out important dates and making sure to emphasise when Owen should send in reports as a little advance notice for him and his team. He thanked her repeatedly, making sure to smile at her as often as he could. She wondered if he knew how her heart rattled against her ribs, the way it pummeled and tried to seek him out - to make itself known to him. They discussed the other raptors, how they were coping with the change in dynamic and did the loss affect them; Owen said there would be an adjustment period, but it will get easier for them. 

As Claire felt the meeting was over, they both stood and she walked around the desk, shaking at his hand in a kind regard. It felt good to finally be civil with him again. She sighed, pushing back her hair over her shoulder. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” she apologised, “it was just a hard day,” she tried to laugh off how uncomfortable she was.

“I’m sure,” he started, “family day right?” 

“You didn’t have anyone in?” she asked. 

“Parents are off to see my sister, and travelling here costs them a lot,” he explained with a shrug.

“Yeah, my sister went on holiday just so she could visit for lunch,” Claire laughed. But Owen’s eyes remained on Claire, finding the moment she faltered, even when she wished he hadn’t. 

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s just soulmate stuff.” She waved the subject off. 

“Again?” he asked, the concern written in his brow. 

“I don’t know. I feel…” she stopped herself. How was she meant to finish that sentence, supposed to articulate the push and pull within herself? She deserved to feel at ease and at peace with everything, but she couldn’t help but know she was struggling just existing with what she was going through. 

“Feel what?” Owen questioned and Claire sighed. Somehow, he made things about her soulmate so easy to confess. 

“I’m stuck. Between what I want and what I know is right for me,” she breathed out her confession. And for a moment, Claire realised how close Owen was, the distance between them was only but a step.

“Why can’t they be both?” 

She didn’t know how to answer. The silence felt deafening. Eyes flicking to his and darting back to his lips, Claire knew the answer; she was tempted by him - by someone who was not her soulmate, but she craved him more than anything else. But it was something she could never say, never admit. So she lied. 

“Sometimes the things we want aren’t the things we need,” she said, stepping back and clearing her throat. “How have you been doing? With everything that’s been happening, how are you?” 

“Not great,” he hummed. 

“Well, is it something you could talk to your soulmate about? I’m sure she’d want to help,” Claire tried but Owen looked down at his feet, closing himself off. 

“It’s complicated,” he said under his breath. 

Claire reached out, her hand missing his just by a few inches. She did it on purpose, the moment his hand was near hers, she retreated and let herself slip. “Whenever you talk about your soulmate, you always say it’s complicated. Why?” 

“We’re different. She can be really distant and close me off a lot. Though I doubt I’ve been helpful lately. It’s just hard to tell her things when she isn’t all there,” he explained, the essence of him shrinking away to the barest; a man, unable to show what he truly wanted because of his pride. 

“She’s your soulmate. You’re going to make it work,” Claire tried to say, but she knew her words would do nothing for him.

“Yeah. I guess,” he sighed. He didn’t take much more time there, giving her a vague nod and leaving without another word. There was something in the silence, in the way he didn’t talk and left the air filled with words that went unspoken. She wondered if he felt the same about her own silences. 

In the midst of her complicated life, she found comfort in the things she dreaded when she woke; her dreams. When she dreamed that night, she found herself on lush grass that stretched one hundred yards until the white spokes peaked at either end. When her soulmate came running out, she grinned wide, marvelling at him like she’d done countless times before. 

“A football field?” she asked with an exaggerated gesture. 

“I think this is all you,” he laughed with a warm and welcome voice. 

“Good,” she laughed, “come on!” she yelled, racing off to the side of the field. Finding out a ball with the lines not too worn or new, she tossed it up, feeling the perfect weight in her hands before palming it and throwing it across to him. When he caught onto it, he grunted, the ball falling into his stomach as he tried not to fumble it. 

“I didn’t know you could throw like that,” he chuckled, feeling the ball’s weight in his own hands.

As he threw it back, she caught it perfectly, not stumbling and noticing the small cheer he gave when she tossed it back up in the air in success. “My dad was a football coach for college teams. I was a little helper when I was young. Even trained with the boys when I was older,” she shouted to him. 

“The boys must have loved you,” he laughed. 

“All the ones under twenty-one sure did,” Claire said, shaking her hips in a playful move. When he laughed a little more heartily, Claire threw the football with all the strength she had in her arm. 

“God, you’ve got one hell of a throwing arm,” he grunted when he caught it, shaking away the pain of it. 

“I was trained by the best,” she declared, her voice going low and flexing her very small biceps, especially in comparison to his. Then, he suddenly started to laugh, more than they had been before. He doubled over, clutching at his stomach as he laughed harder and harder. “Why are you laughing?” she called out. He waved it off with a weak arm. 

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you even if I tried,” he declaimed midway through a laugh. She rolled her eyes and called for him to throw the football again. And for the rest of the night, they talked and threw around a football. And when it all got tiring, he chased her around the field, tackling her and combing hair out of her face as they laid beside each other. 

Claire got into the rhythm and habit of checking in with Owen; he requested it in fact. When the next week came around, he asked her specifically to make sure that the program stays on its feet, just so that he was pushed to do his job. Claire objected many times to it, including the fact that he didn’t need her to because he was already doing such a great job of it - but he’d call every morning, asking for a meeting about the previous day’s progress. It was insistant and incensent, so she relented. 

Knocking on the bungalow door, she heard him collapse to the ground inside. Finding the key underneath one of his old sneakers, she came inside, setting down his coffee on his kitchen counter. 

“You know you can’t keep waking up this late,” Claire called out as Owen rushed around behind the scenes between his bathroom and bedroom. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” he shouted back. Looking around, Claire noticed the slight disarray of whole abod, the mess that he hadn’t cleared away yet and the fine dust that filtered in the air whenever she disturbed anything within her grasp. 

“Tomorrow, you and I are having breakfast together because you not getting up is ridiculous. If forcing you to go somewhere will get you up, I’m going to do it,” Claire said, slowly cleaning his kitchen. She couldn’t help herself - the need to organise the dysfunctional was too overwhelming. 

“If you say so,” Owen muttered, coming into the room and finalised the last button on his shirt. It remained amiss, with one half still loose and his belt hanging but not buckled. Claire wiped down the counter quickly with a dish towel and offered the coffee to Owen. He rolled his eyes before accepting it. 

“You also need to clean your place. If you ever get your soulmate back here, she’s going to kill you for the mess,” she smiled, walking ahead of him.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he snorted, pushing her out of the door and tucking in his shirt on the way out. 

In the car ride to the paddock, Owen told her about previous days work, making sure to leave the first weeks reports on her dashboard. As he and Claire ran out of work related things to discuss, Owen brought up a topic Claire hadn’t thought of in a while. 

“When is the staff picnic happening?” 

Claire’s brow crinkled and shrugged. “Has no one gotten on top of it this year?” 

“I think we all assumed you were doing it,” Owen chuckled, leaning back into his chair, regarding her as she drove. She couldn’t help but feel cornered in her chair, the eyes that she longed to look at her kept her feeling more alive than she thought she’d be privy to. She focused on the road.

“I am now,” she suggested in a scoff and Owen just nodded. At the paddock, Owen jumped out of the car, rounding it to go over to Claire’s window. “So, breakfast tomorrow?” she reminded. He nodded, backing away. 

“Yeah. Looking forward to it!” he said with a wave. When he looked back, there was a smile on his face that made her ache, the foreign feeling of want returning to her in full force; he was temptation walking, winning his way into her graces without the intention to. She fell for his smile and the way he spoke, marvelling at him in every aspect the way she’d once done with her soulmate. She felt torn, knowing that the two men meant something to her but she couldn’t tell how they differed. 

When she dreamed that night, she was left in a room that was endlessly black. The floor reflected everything but was still as dark and black as the rest of the room. Yet, in all of it, the room was still bright, colours stood out amongst the black and there were no shadows, just a bright, black room. In the centre, there was a chair that held one recipient; Owen. Claire breathed out his name, her voice echoing around the expanse. 

Owen glanced down at himself, noticing the way they were both dressed. Claire’s hair was down around her shoulders, and she was wearing a green wrap dress with flimsy straps that were desperate to fall down her arms. Owen, on the other hand, wore a suit that was half undone, the buttons on his shirt already undone about half of his chest. They looked like they were ready to go somewhere formal and had come undone at the sight of each other. 

Claire walked to him, and Owen stood, his pace a little more hungry than her own. When he finally reached her, his arm curled around her back and held her in place, their kiss was sharp and longing. Her hand on his cheek, she sunk into the kiss, stumbling into him until they were getting to the chair. When his hands started to slowly pull up the length of her dress, there was a feeling that Claire couldn’t help but indulge in for a moment. She removed his jacket, tossing it aside as his hands tried desperately to remove her dress. 

“Let me -” she started in a whisper. Then, his hands went stiff, no longer eager, but rather cautious on her body. 

“What do you need?” he asked, voice an echo of something familiar, other than just the voice she recognised - of something more, something deeper. His words made her shiver, uncertain and certain - all rolled into the one feeling.

“I just want to you to watch,” she let the words barely pass through her lips, but they echoed around them; the seduction filtering in the air like a perfume that paraded around them. Owen nodded, sitting back into the chair, his legs wide and his knuckles pressed to his lips, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair. 

When he seemed comfortable, she disturbed it by untying the knot of the wrap, letting the fabric loosen around her body. As the material came apart, revealing the underwear she had on, she walked to him slowly, letting her knees go either side of his. She saw it in his eyes, the way he wanted to take control, to lean up and tackle her with as much lust as he had brewing inside of him. Instead, Claire pushed him back, making him look up at her as she shrugged completely out of the dress. 

Hands firm on her hips, Claire moved on top of him. Grinding her hips down, tempting and teasing at his hardening cock. When he hissed and his jaw went slack, Claire rested onto his thighs, her thumb tracing over his bottom lip and watching as his eyes fluttered as he tried to remain composed. Undoing his belt, Claire ran her fingers over his shaft, the hard moan from Owen as he leaned forward into her made her tremble. He kissed her urgently as Claire took him out of his underwear. 

Settling down onto him, they both moaned against each other’s lips. Owen would thrust up into her with softer hips than he had in any of her other dreams, and Claire would respond with circling her hips to meet him. Her hands were either side of his neck when Owen leaned forward, taking Claire’s knees and moving them so instead of kneeling, she was straddled around him. 

There was a steadiness to it all, her hips meeting down with his thrusts, grinding back and forth to gain the right kind of friction; it felt like it was last eons in just a few seconds. Owen’s hands allowed her to move her hips at the right angle for both of them, gripping in harder when he wanted to make noises that always failed to stay within his throat. 

When Owen thrust in a little deeper than he had before, Claire whimpered and forced her hips to move a little faster, the urge to reach her orgasm was insatiable. Bucking against him, Claire moved her hands to his hair - ruffling the perfect way it was once crafted. But she adored the way it looked when it was messy, especially when her fingers were the ones responsible. Owen tilted her chin down when all she wanted to do was throw her head back, forcing her forehead against his. And through it all, he made sure their eyes left each other. 

Claire moaned out with every breath, the most needy she’d ever sounded. Her eyes were focused on his, never leaving his as she desperately wanted to clench them shut; but his gaze told her to stay where she was. Moving a little harder and faster against him, Claire felt the pressure of her orgasm building in her belly and she knew she couldn’t hold on much longer. When she saw Owen’s jaw stiffen, opening and snapping back shut, she could tell that he was feeling her around him. 

And without warning, her orgasm broke, blindsiding her and having her giving off a sharp moan that lasted longer than she thought - the way he was making her feel was beyond what would could conjure; a pleasure that had her begging for every ounce it could offer. Her legs tightened, her whole body tensing and holding him close, trembling with aftershocks. Panting, she felt Owen breathing into her chest, his hand roaming from her hip to her bra. Moving it down, his teeth biting at her breast and grazing against her nipple. The thrill of it made her buck into him again.

Letting her hands move down, she took his cheeks again, making him kiss her. She moved into him, arching just right as Owen’s hands took her hips, bringing her down into the rougher thrusts he was now dealing. Claire breathed out a moan as his pace quickened, the rumble in his chest a warning of how desperate he was. “Don’t stop,” she moaned, leaning her head into his shoulder as she couldn’t help but moan again, hopeless against the pleasure he was inducing.

Owen’s jaw snapped shut again as he swore under his breath, kissing at her collarbone, tongue tracing it just to make her whimper again. Rolling hips and thrusts that ranged from soft and comforting to rough and moan prompting, they were falling deeper and deeper into the pits of pleasure that they would sink into and cry out for over and over again. When Owen thrust in deep and fast, there was a noise that they both made;  _ there _ , it was right there that they would feel it, they just had to keep going. 

They felt exhausted and exhilarated all in one, but they weren’t about to stop. Claire tried to keep a moderate pace, not working herself too hard but enough to keep them both at their brink, but when Owen was breathing hard against her chest again, clinging to her tighter and forcing her onto his cock; she knew he wasn’t going to last. Before she knew it, her climate was washing over her in relaxing waves, the pleasure so easy to slip into and feel at peace with, she knew it was only a moment before Owen broke. 

And he did, a hearty moan that rumbled from his chest out of his throat in a surprised and choked breath. Claire felt him slip into her, the sensation almost as though it were happening to her in reality. As she rocked into him, trying to ride out their orgasms, she heard the soft whimpers of an exhausted man. Tugging on the back of his neck, Claire rested her forehead to his, her eyes shutting tight as another roll of aftershock came over so blissfully, she felt like she was shaking. 

The moment her eyes met his, there was a hopeless and wanting man, eager for what he craved. Tilting his chin upwards, Claire met him halfway. And for the first time, they had a tentative kiss in her dreams; a spark of familiarity of it was shocked from his lips to hers. As Owen reclined back into the chair, Claire followed, resting herself onto him just to keep kissing his lips with the softest and most delicate of ways. 

They stopped for a briefest time, staring at each other as though they expected to say something; instead, they just smiled. The warmth of his lips as they were swollen and slightly bruised was sparking another whimper to come from her. Even as he went limp, there was part of Claire that didn’t want him to leave her, to stay with him. Instead, they separated to have her just sitting in his lap, teasing kisses and finding comfort in each other’s hold. 

She wasn’t startled awake this time. It felt gradual, the way his hands lingered on hers and neither of them saying a word. He kept her close, nipping at her until she giggled and kissed him all over again. When once the chair was their place, they were laid on the floor; naked, in each other’s embrace, the moment almost fleeting, but it felt...right. Touching at her lips, remembering the way his stubble scratched at her and left marks all over her. Sitting up, her body a wonderfilled joy to be in, she felt ready to get on with her day. 

In a green blouse and white skirt, Claire went down to the same coffee place that Owen and she frequented. At the edge of the store, she saw Owen, who smiled from ear to ear and was dressed in henley and jeans.

“Hey!” she called out, waving to him and he waved back. 

“Good to see you!” he said, the bags under his eyes saying otherwise. And yet, even with his tiredness and slightly disheveled appearance, he still looked gorgeous. “You look amazing this morning,” he commented before he embraced her. Claire felt herself get a little giddy but refrained from showing it. 

“I had a really great dream last night,” she said with a blush running over her cheeks. They let go of each other and Owen smiled down to her.

“Well your soulmate must be in good spirits if you’re like this,” he said, opening up the door to the coffee house and letting her walk in ahead of him. 

“I hope so,” she said under her breath, the guilt finally hitting her like a fist to her chest. 

They sat at a table, the light of the morning shining in and making Owen seem like he as illuminated just for her eyes. The conflict of her chest didn’t make this morning easier. But every time his eyes met hers, she could ignore the feeling, letting herself enjoy the moment in his gaze. He made her feel special without doubt or pressure. 

As they were midway through their breakfast, Claire noticed the smile on Owen’s face only seeming to grow, as though he was thinking on something good that had happened and it glowed right through him. He was a wonder when he looked like that. But out of curiosity, Claire wondered why. Why and how could something make Owen look like that? And a childish, or girlish, part of her wanted to know so she could make him shine like that. Make him forget the world and just be happy beyond what a person should be capable of. 

“Why are you so happy this morning?” she asked, sipping at her coffee. Owen set his knife and fork down, cleaning away the egg at the side of his lip.

“I have news,” he said, swallowing the remains of his food. 

“Well, spit it out,” Claire said, putting a little more toast into her mouth and watching as Owen’s smile grew even wider. He was a star, gleaming bright and a wonder to behold. 

“I’m going to meet my soulmate soon,” he said, biting at his lips for a moment. Claire froze, trying to remain unmoved. Forcing a smile on her face, she went for her coffee. 

“What? Have you organised to meet on the island?” she said over the edge of her cup. He shook his head but still made the moment seem like a triumph for himself. 

“Not yet, but I can tell things have changed. I feel like we’re meant to find each other really soon,” he confirmed, the dimples in his cheeks making a display for the first time. Claire tried to beam in reply, but something instead her made her feel like she drowning with an anchor tied to her chest. 

“T-that’s great!” she shuttered, watching as Owen went back to his food, still as happy as ever. But not Claire. 

Claire hadn’t felt that kind of emotion before, the sting that pervaded her chest like a wound freshly made. It filtered through her in waves, sweeping with hatred and longing, the light of his eyes and tug of happiness on his lips; and she was not the cause. And it hurt. Claire was better than this, than wanting a man she could never have, but she did. She wanted him like she needed to breathe. Yet, he would never be in her arms. The thought alone hurt her more than the idea of someone else embracing him and causing him to smile like they created the world just for him. 

Jealousy was the colour of green, and Claire was drenched in it. 


	5. Want Me In The Light Of Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta Clare who has been calming me down in my freak outs about this chapter! Bless you my dear! As always, I hope everyone loves this chapter!

The dream felt heavy, as though the weight on her chest was physically in the air. The room was the same as her dream with Owen; black and bare, but she wasn’t with her guilty pleasure. Claire saw her soulmate a distance away, arguing with someone shorter than he was. He seemed frustrated, his low voice cracking in unexpected places - his whole body was a tense mess. His face was scratched out, flickering from just his face to a chaos of scratches and blurs; a wave of torment hit her. 

Claire raced, her feet barely moving. All she wanted to do was scream - to yell and cry, just to try and get his attention, but nothing would form in her throat. She kicked at the ground, stomping her feet until she felt like she was moving. Running to him, almost tripping over herself, she felt the tension lift and Claire almost reached to him. Until she saw who stood in front of him. Claire wanted to distance them, but as soon as she reached out to him, to touch him, her hand was stopped by something. 

Patting at the surface, glass that did not reflect, it could have been air for all she knew. What she did know, was that she wasn’t able to touch him, to reach him. To stop the fantasy that played out. Claire finally shouted, the echo radiating around her but he didn’t turn - he remained focused on the woman. Claire hammered at the air, shouting and screaming for her soulmate to just  _ look _ at her. 

His shoulders crumbled. “No. Stop it,” he mumbled, his hands reaching out and the slender hands. He seemed broken by her, but still craved the touch of her torment. 

“But the real question is...” Claire - the Claire that stood in front of him - was different than what who she was. She was seductive, a dress that hugged her and showed her off, with straps that were ready to fall at any moment. Her eyes coloured with green shadows and lips painted in a sharp red; she was pinned together like a siren, ready to reel him in and slaughter him with just her smile.  “Why would I want to see you?” she smirked, her hands laying on his stomach and batting her lashes as though she tempted him with words rather than slice him with daggers. 

“Hey, that isn’t true!” Claire shouted, banging her fist, kicking at the air. She felt the acceleration of her heart, the way it rattled and caused her to feel like she was ready to be sick.

“I haven’t been dreaming with  _ you _ ,” Other Claire purred, tilting his chin to keep his attention. The strap on her shoulder slipped, his attention focusing on it. 

“Stop it,” Claire cursed at the fiction of herself. “Honey, she isn’t me. I’m not like that,” she pleaded, the starting of her tears were swelling at her eyes. Yet, he still didn’t turn. 

“I love what we have. There’s no need to change. Just let us be happy, baby,” Other Claire replied, tugging on his lapel and urging him towards her. 

“She needs to know,” he said with a shaky breath to Other Claire. 

Then, Other Claire panicked. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m perfectly happy,” she said urgently. 

“Tell me what?” Claire whispered, clawing at the air, watching as her soulmate shook his head and leaned down. There were soft sobs, pain-filled and desperate for relief.

“You need to stay with me. I’m right here,” Other Claire smiled, biting at her lip and pressing herself up against him. He leaned into her, and Claire felt like she was being physically attacked. 

“Don’t. Don’t listen to her. I’m your soulmate. I lov -,” Claire choked, her heart pounding in her chest. Her voice echoed around her, but did nothing for the two people beyond the barrier. 

“I _love_ _you_ , just as you are,” Other Claire whispered. Claire sucked in a tight breath, watching at . “I know exactly who you are,” she reminded, touching the side of his face and rising on her toes, curling her arms around him. And as she held on, Claire locked eyes with her counterpart, the wickedness that possessed her and teased the real her. Claire threw herself against the barrier, begging for it to relent. Other Claire could see her, knew she was there and watching; killing her slowly. When Other Claire rested back on her toes, her eyes dark with a lustful power, she remained staring up at Claire’s soulmate. “I do.” 

“Babe, don’t do this. It’s in your head. I’m not -” Claire cried with whimpers, the tears slipping down her face.

**“** You know me,” he sounded wretched, like it was being ripped from his throat, “god I want you so much.” Without hesitation, his need broke through and he took her cheeks into his hands, leaning down to take her lips. Nothing he had ever done with Claire had ever been so desperate, so in want of who she was, like he was for the siren in her place. It was like a blow to the sternum, making her breathless. She couldn’t breathe. She grabbed at her throat, feeling the way her lungs were desperate to suck in the air...

Claire jerked awake, gasping for air, her hands clutching onto her sheets until she felt her nails pressing hard into her palms. Reluctantly, she let the sheet go, curling herself up and the tears that were only in her dreams were now reality, spilling onto the mattress with only droplets to say they were ever there. She found that she cried more these days, that she couldn’t quite find her own bearings anymore. She was pulled in every direction. And now, it seemed as though her soulmate was as well. 

No matter the make-up she put on, there was something in her eyes that morning - that she wasn’t quite herself, that she’d been crying. There was no use trying to hide it; it wasn’t like she could. Claire was just tired of pretending to be okay. To be fine with how her life felt all the more complicated because of dreams she couldn’t control. 

Walking into her office, Claire pulled her hair up, tying it in a loose band and seeing the reflection of it in her blank computer screen. It was thrown in waves and kinks, but there wasn’t room for her to care today. She pressed on and started to organise the company picnic. If she put herself in it, she’d be able to move on with her day, relax and try not to get so goddamn worked up over her dreams anymore. 

Claire was pacing back and forth along the length of her desk, as one of the previous ideas that Jurassic World had organised fell through. She listened patiently, taking her time to hear them out, but she felt the anger brewing. It wasn’t her day. It really wasn’t her day. Claire stopped pacing, her spare hand on her hip. “What do you mean the island isn’t available? We work here!” she said sternly. She listened, but still, the anger couldn’t be put out but just a calm voice on the other end of the phone. Claire rubbed at her brow, before wiping her face. “I understand. I’ll...I...yes, I’ll find something else. Thank you,” she said, hanging up the phone and huffing as she collapsed back into her chair. 

The knock on her office door made her straighten, but not completely, just to rest on the arm of her chair. Zara rounded the door, a cautious look on her face. “What’s up?” she asked softly. 

“Picnic isn’t going to be on the island this year,” Claire groaned, fixing her shoulders back. 

“What?” Zara said, moving closer to Claire’s desk, handling the edge of the seat across from Claire. She rubbed at her brow again as she looked at the stunned Zara. 

“Well, it’s complicated. Last year, we didn’t have as many customers around this time and it was easier to hold it here. Now, we’re at our busiest and we can’t exactly close down areas or parts of the beach for a staff day off,” Claire explained, shrugging as she knew that an island option was going to be hard to sell. 

“And the day crew are still coming in for that day?” Zara asked. Claire nodded. 

“Yep. So, it’s gotta be that day. I just have to find somewhere else on the mainland to have it,” she sighed, knowing it was more work that needed to be done. And she’d need to physically do it. She could send Zara, but Claire knew herself better than that - it had to be perfect. 

“I believe in you,” Zara smiled, genuine and kind. Claire leaned forward, smirking to her assistant. 

“If I can’t do it, no one on this island could,” Claire said confidently. Zara started out her Claire’s office, 

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Zara replied, chuckling softly. As Claire reached for her phone, she paused.

“Hey, Zara, can you -” 

“Going on a coffee run now!” Zara called back over her shoulder, closing the door behind her. 

“Thank you!” Claire yelled, seeing Zara wave past the glass. 

The rest of Claire’s day consisted of talks with hotels and availabilities on the mainland for a large staff gathering. She found the hotel that could host the staff, she started to look for local spots. She made an entire list filled with places to visit for the day, and possible spots for dinner if people wanted to go. As she marked down all the locations for after the picnic, Claire noticed the day had gone by without her realising. She was so wrapped up in her work that she barely noticed the time.

Claire didn’t want to dream that night. She was afraid who she’d meet on the other side. There wasn’t need to be, as Claire didn’t fall asleep far enough to dream. All she had was light sleep, barely resting into anything that made her sleep soundly. As she prepared for her day, she could tell how different she appeared compared to the day before; how she no longer had saddened eyes that stained cheeks. Now, she just looked, fragile - the shell that protected her, chipped at the edges. 

Pulling her hair up, tying it loose but neat, she walked into the conference room with a few stares from those already present. As she fixed her blouse, she spotted Owen and Barry at other end of the table, greeting her with soft waves and smiles that were kind. She couldn’t help but linger on Owen’s, the curve so delicate, it could sooth a child just by seeing it. The fret Claire had felt in her chest was gone in a moment.

Taking a seat just opposite them, Claire smiled back. “Morning,” she greeted, suppressing a yawn. 

“Sleep okay?” Owen asked, and she only replied with a shrug. “No dreams?” 

“I couldn’t care less about dreaming right now,” she admitted under her breath, glancing up to meet a surprised gaze from Owen, “sorry. Just, far too tired right now for more dramas.” A sigh left her as she sank into her seat. 

“Hopefully you can get some peace soon,” Owen replied softly, as though no one else could hear. And she could feel it, the care that he took with his words. Claire couldn’t help but smile, another weight lifting from her with an ease that she’d only felt in her dreams. He carried a weightlessness around with him, exchanging it in tone and smiles. “So,” Owen said, breathing out a sigh, “is this meeting going to be long? I hate when these things drag,” he groaned, relaxing back into his chair. 

“You get away from losing a hand or two. I think an hour away could do you some good,” Claire commented with a smirk. 

“It’s a finger at most,” he replied quickly. 

“I’m sure you’d be very talented with nine fingers.” 

“I’m a wonder with two.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” she scoffed, looking at the confident and flirting smile on his lips.

The conference room soon had people piling in. Claire gathered her phone out, typing up notes, hearing each division’s progress and making notes on their remarks, as to update her own papers. Masrani sat beside Claire, whispering in her ear to note down important things before he was to speak. Claire noticed a shift opposite her, the uncomfortable squirm that stirred in Owen as Simon leaned into her to whisper. Her brow creased as she caught sight of him, the glances he threw and the tight roll in his shoulder. Claire ignored it; there were a hundred reasons why he’d be doing that.

Simon had always liked to be included within the fine workings of the company - liked knowing the ins and outs, the small details that kept his company as pure as what John Hammond first envisioned. Claire was happy to have his ear when she needed. He stood, smiling and making a joke that Claire was too busy to notice. She was putting together a list she’d need to update when she got back to her office, as well as ignore the linger feeling that she was being watched; the feeling alone made something in her weak, pressing her thighs together to forget the sensation. 

“Claire,” Simon said, bringing her attention back up from her notes. “I’ve heard that you’re taking up the responsibility of the staff picnic,” he said and the room burst out with a hush of voices, discussing the day they would get away from the park for a few hours. 

“Yes, I’m going to have to scout locations on the mainland. I can discuss the details of that later,” Claire said over the voice, smiling politely. 

“All right,” Simon nodded, and Claire returned to her notes. “Can you please take Owen with you when you go,” he mentioned, just as he went onto his next point. Claire looked up, looking between Masrani and Owen - who also seemed as shocked as she was. 

“Sorry, that seems a little odd, Sir,” Claire mentioned, bringing him back to her for a moment. 

“We can discuss this later, but I would like for Mister Grady to go with you,” he mentioned, fixing the watch around his wrist. Claire interrupted before he had the chance to move on. 

“But, that isn’t Owen’s area. He’s not exactly fit for this type of work,” Claire chuckled, trying to play off her uneasiness. She looked back to Owen quickly. “No offense.” 

“None taken, I’m confused too.” 

“Again, we can discuss this later,” Masrani replied, moving on and Claire looking back to Owen. 

Claire relaxed back in her chair, blinking as she considered the idea, nearly a full day of solitude with Owen, as she developed a lustful attraction to him. The idea was horrible, the bubbling feelings in her chest making her feel hot and flustered, the tight squeeze in her thighs returning. Just as she was regaining herself, her phone buzzed. 

_ O: I don’t have to go. I can talk to Simon.  _

Claire glanced up at Owen who was giving her secret glances, hidden but warm. 

_ C: No. It’s fine. Nothing’s wrong with coming. I’m just confused as to why he wants you to go when you’ve got the raptors to worry about.  _

She replied quickly, watching as Owen received the text, nodding a little as he texted back. 

_ O: That is true. I could still pull out if you need me to _

Claire almost snorted. 

_ C: Please don’t phrase it like that  _

She shook her head.

_ O: Oh come on! Everyone loves a good pull out _

Claire burst out laughing, covering her mouth as the squeak of laughter that erupted out of her. People turned and stared, watching as her shoulder shook and her hand covering her mouth, breathing in sharp breaths that made her like a squeak toy that was being played with. Looking back at Simon, she swallowed her laughter and breathed in. 

“I’m so sorry sir,” she apologised, nodding for him to continue, which he did without delay. 

Claire looked over to Owen, the red in her face must have been visible because she could feel the heat over her cheeks. She mouthed ‘are you serious’, seeing Owen stifling a laugh behind Barry’s back. She bit at her lip, trying to hide the smile that was coming to her lips. Shaking her head, she went back to her note taking, but the smile on her lips wasn’t leaving her any time soon. 

The meeting ended only a few minutes after Claire’s outburst. Claire and Owen stayed in their spot, glancing between each other. As everyone else had left the room, Claire and Owen walked to Simon who was gathering up his belongings, most likely not wanting to talk about this for too long a time. 

“So, why exactly are you sending Owen?” Claire asked straight away, not trying to edge around the topic. 

“Mister Grady,” Masrani started, stopping what he was doing and putting his hands on his hips. “I want you to go on holiday.” 

“Ex-excuse me?” Owen stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Since the unfortunate death of your raptor, we haven’t let you think of anything but your animals,” Masrani said, small gestures of apology with his hands, but they soon returned to his hips. 

“Sir, I had about two weeks off,” Owen explained, glancing back to Claire. 

“To grieve. It isn’t right that you thought of the dinosaur’s death, then to be around its siblings just the next week,” he reminded back to Owen, who shook his head, obviously trying to get out of the arrangement. 

“Sir, it really isn’t necessary,” he scoffed. 

“Do you want two days off to go search the beaches and parks of Costa Rica or be around dinosaurs that remind you of one you’ve lost?” Masrani asked, eyeing Owen more intently this time, and Owen crumbled under the the gaze.

“Beaches and parks,” he cleared his throat. 

“Good,” Masrani smiled. “You’ll be heading out tomorrow. I expect you back the next day. Knowing you, Claire, I will presume it will be handled,” he said, looking back at Claire. 

“Of course, Sir.” She simply nodded. Simon picked up his things, checking over all his things before smiling and leaving the two of them alone in the room. No matter how many times Claire and Owen had seen each other, the moment they were alone, Claire felt so much smaller than he was - the heels gaining nothing in height compared to the broad and tall nature of him. 

“Meet you at the morning ferry?” he said, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, sure,” Claire said with a soft shrug and smile. Then, there was a smile that was pinching at the edge of his lips and Claire knew he was thinking of something. 

“I mean, I could still pull out,” he said, no laugh, but the intention of it holding in his chest. 

“The joke is dead.” Claire rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, you laughed pretty hard there,” he remarked, his smile turning to a devilish smirk in just a matter of words. 

“Shut up,” she scoffed, walking past him and heading back to her office. She turned back to him, seeing him lingering his gaze. “Make sure you pack something nice in case we need to go somewhere.” She waved him off as she rounded a corner and went to go collate her notes from the meeting. The day dragged on and night came in with a little fuss, as Claire couldn’t help but wonder about her impending day. When she finally got to sleep, it was closer to midnight than she wanted; but she didn’t dream. 

The two met at the edge of the ferry the next morning, not dressed for anything they’d wear to work, with overnight bags draped over their shoulders. They both greeted each other with a smile that was warm, but neither of them pretended they wanted to talk; it was far too early, as the earliest ferry went back to the mainland at five in the morning. They both may have early starts, but getting up at 4am isn’t either of their cups of tea. 

Getting to the mainland, there was a breath that beheld Claire - an anxiousness that she held on the island was suddenly adrift to the mainland’s air. She could focus on anything other than work; an event that was fun, that kept her preoccupied without it feeling like a responsibility, or that it was a distraction from something else. Owen and Claire had a hired car and driver that drove them around the coast’s parks and beaches for the day. Owen had suggested it in the late hours of the night before, a brief discussion over text that ended up being a rather large weight off her mind to think about once they were there. 

They started on their first location that was a nice open park. There were a few families scattered around, and it was surrounded by some beautiful trees, but was relatively close to apartments and shopping centres. Looking back at Owen, the shake in his head was enough to get Claire to cross the park off the list. It became a habit of jumping in their car and their driver taking them to a new location that didn’t spark any delight in them. 

Venturing to obscure beaches and further out parks, Claire was finding it harder to stay upbeat. Everywhere she went, it felt like it wasn’t big enough, or that she couldn’t see the staffers enjoying themselves. She felt like she was wasting the entire day, with Owen trying his best to convince her on some locations, never really arguing about spots. He tried her on one of the beaches, but it reminded her of something that made her stomach twist. 

Traffic had built just after three, Claire and Owen sitting in the back of the car, waiting for it to die down. She drifted between awareness and utter distraction, only hearing Owen and the driver talking about something from time to time. When once she thought this day would be a breeze - visiting parks and beaches all day with the Costa Rican air floating around her - yet, she was driven to work mode easily. 

“You know,” their driver said, clearing his throat and drawing Claire’s attention back. Claire had been drifting in and out since she got in the car, so when he spoke, he spooked her a bit. “The beach fifteen minutes from the hotel is good.” 

“I didn’t put it down because of traffic,” Claire explained in a yawn. 

“If you get there in the morning, there’s no traffic at all,” he explained, turning the car away from the traffic that was keeping them pinned in the same spot for twenty minutes. 

“Can you take us there?” Claire asked. 

“Already here,” he said, the car turning off and the driver turning around and smiling. “guy said you’d wanna see it.” Claire looked back at Owen, who just shrugged at her. He opened the door, walking out as Claire looked beyond the windscreen to see the the expanse of water that seemed endless, save for the isle in which she worked. 

Exiting the car, she found herself met with the air of winds off an ocean that breathed new life. Taking it in, Claire hopped out of her shoes, walking across the sands before racing herself down to the water. She may have been scouting a location, but she wasn’t at work, so she let herself be a little rebellious. When her feet touched wet sand, Claire closed her eyes. And as water swept onto her feet, sinking them beneath the covering sand.

“I always preferred the beach,” Owen whispered beside her. Claire’s eyes sprung open to see him, dangerously close to her, his arm barely an inch from hers, feet toeing at the sand close to her. 

“I’m the same,” she replied back softly, as though it were a secret that only they held. “I think this is the one,” she said in a sigh, hearing the crashes of the water hit the beach, the tumbles so quiet, they were barely a murmur. Looking back at him, Owen stared off to the distance, watching the water with a bliss in his body that radiated off of him, transferring to her with such delight, she almost forgot that the day was soon to end. 

The two headed back to the car, sitting in the backseat as their driver took them back to the main roads. “Traffic is bad,” he cleared his throat just as they turned into the chaos. Claire peered over the driver’s seat and rubbed at her brow. 

“How long?” she asked, suppressing a yawn. 

“Maybe an hour or so,” he shrugged and Claire contained the groaned that rumbled in her chest. 

“Really?” Owen asked. 

“There was an accident. Sorry,” he apologised.

“It’s okay,” Claire said, leaning against the window, finding comfort in the backseat. “As long as we’re getting back to the hotel,” she yawned, shifting into her seat a little more. 

Something felt strange as she leaned against the window, as though it had suddenly become lighter and darker in a single moment, the two brightnesses mixing together and decorating outside into an artwork. As her eyes opened, Claire took it in - the dream that mixed with her reality. The sky, now a pink and blue mix, swirling together like clouds that could never form into cotton balls and laid across the sky in pulled apart strands. Looking into the front, the driver was gone, and outside, there were no roads and no buildings; it was just the bright fairy floss pink and bubblegum blue sky and the car that remained unchanged.

Yet, she still sat in the backseat of the car, and across from her sat Owen, his eyes falling to her as she looked at him. And, in a single moment, Claire couldn’t care about the conflict anymore; she let herself feel for once. 

Sliding herself across the car, she kneeled up to kiss him before he could lay his hands on her this time. She took charge, deepening the kiss until he was pressed between the window and his chair; the shocked one of the pair for once. Hooking her legs over his, she rested in his lap as he leaned forward, surging into the role she loved on him; controlling but never demanding on her. Back pressed against the front seat, Claire started to tear at his shirt, unbuttoning it with force and moving it past his shoulders just as he took her shirt over her head. 

It became a battle against their own clothes, kicking off pants and trousers until they had finally stripped out of their underwear. Claire sat back onto Owen’s lap, kissing him as she ground her hips down onto him lap, his cock twitching to just be inside her.

“Ah!” he hissed, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her along the length of his cock, teasing it against her slick folds. “Stop….teasing,” he breathed, chuckling as he shut his eyes. 

“I like teasing,” Claire giggled, taking his cock and running her hand along the shaft. Owen’s head fell forward into her chest. 

“Claire,” he breathed, dragging her hips closer to him. Claire lifted her free hand to his cheek, tracing her finger over his parted lips, nail dragging across his bottom lip. 

“Shh,” she whispered as her finger slipped into his mouth, his teeth catching onto her lightly, “be patient,” she panted, letting her hand grace over his cock gently just to hear him hiss out a breath again. 

Claire rose on her knees, guiding herself down onto him and letting her hands rest on either shoulder. Owen panted against her chest, letting his tongue dance over her collar bone before turning into kisses that laced her heated skin. Claire moved against him, rising and falling, making tight whimpers when she fully sank down onto him. Her hands on the back of his neck, grinding against him. He gave over tender thrusts, taking hot breaths into her skin before his head fell back and their eyes met. 

Their bodies fell into a rhythm, working against each other just to get to their peaks. Their eyes never left each other, fluttering closed for a moment but always returning just to see what the other would do. It was a tension that never broke, building to this moment that only they could share. Claire’s mouth hung open, snapping shut when her eyes closed, trying to force herself to stay together for longer. She wanted this to last forever, to feel him pressed in so deep that it made her want to squeak out in pleasure.

The crease in his brow told Claire enough - they were setting each other off like matches; the moment she broke, he would too. She circled her hips, rotating and bucking against him just to gain friction and meet him with his thrusts. Claire’s hand reached at the top of the car’s roof, pushing against it to meet Owen with, leveraging herself to break him before he broke her. It was a fight that they would both lose. 

Owen’s fingers went to his mouth, tongue licking and lathering his fingers, reaching between them and touching at her clit. Her hips jerked, the unexpected touch at the sensitive nub had her reacting wildly to him. She tried to regain her rhythm, but she was at the mercy of his fingers. She bucked and ground her hips against him, panting as her forehead rested against his, her jaw slack as she could feel herself on the edge of her release. 

“I’ve wanted you so badly,” she panted, her arm shaking against the roof before she put it back on his neck. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Owen grunted as he thrust into her again. Claire clawed at his neck, arching into him just to feel him inside her like she wanted. 

“Please,” she begged. When she said it, she wasn’t quite sure what she was begging for until her hands on either side of his face told her what she wanted; she wanted to look at him, see his eyes fill with lust just when ecstasy hit both of them. He didn’t let his gaze fall, no matter how much they wanted to close their eyes, to just revel in the moment, he remained locked with her. 

“Come for me, baby,” he groaned. She watched, letting her jaw go, finally moaning like a banshee; no restraint, just lust and wanting and desire overtaking every impulse, just pure enjoyment of his cock inside her and how he made her feel. 

“Oh, god, yes,” she moaned before she finally let her orgasm go, shattering her into a quivering mess, locking her legs tight at his sides and falling into him, clutching to him like she depended on him for air. 

Owen followed after, grunting over and over again as his orgasm rolled and he filled with. They both breathed harshly, rocking against each other. They couldn’t break apart, they were firmly in place and it was as though they were bound - tied together in each other’s arms. Claire comb her hands over his face, wiping sweat from his forehead and leaning into him. He met her halfway, kissing her with tender lips that had words in each kiss.

_ Want.  _

_ Desire.  _

_ Care.  _

_ Forgiveness.  _

_ Longing.  _

_ Love.  _

And she felt it all. 

Then, the car jolted and Claire hit her forehead against the window. She groaned, touching her head just as her mind caught up - let her remember the dream that made her still feel weak. Turning to Owen, he was already getting out of the car and out of sight. Sighing, Claire gathered herself, ignoring the pressing feeling that was present at the pit of her stomach and in between her legs. 

As she looked at the time, it was thirty minutes after four and they managed to get to the hotel within an hour of setting back. Claire thanked the driver, who grinned and wished her well on the rest of the trip. Walking into the hotel’s foyer, she caught up with Owen, walking beside him and -  _ were his cheeks just as flushed as hers felt?  _ Claire had stoked her filthy desires, she knew she wanted to indulge in the other side of her wantings. Yet, as she stood beside him, she couldn’t help but crave him more than just her dreams; everything about him called to her like a beacon that blared against the confusing blackness of her life. 

At the elevators of their hotel, Claire and Owen stood waiting for the doors to open, she clenched fists, feelings the tough burying of her nails in her palm. Taking a hard swallow, she turned to Owen, who noticed the hesitation written on her. 

“Did you want you to go to dinner?” she asked in rushed words. Biting at her lip, she tried to stop herself from feeling flustered or blurting out her words; but she did exactly that. “You know, see which restaurant is good to suggest for the workers.” When she closed her eyes, she realised how ridiculous she sounded. She was ready to backtrack when Owen’s hand touched at her elbow, his fingers barely wanting to grip, but were tender against her - cautious of how she’d react to his touch. 

She craved it. 

But could never admit it. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said, his lips barely quirking up into a smile, but it still remained warm.

“Good,” Claire said, tucking hair behind her ear. The elevator came and they stood on either side of the box. As floor by floor rolled by, Claire hated her mind, the lingering thought of Owen’s mouth on her neck, breathing into her as he was struggling to keep himself contained. And all the while, his cock pressing in deep within her and his calloused fingers playing with her just to see her crumble. 

Owen stared at the floor numbers, but Claire was lingering her gaze on the muscles in his arms, the way the sweat ran down his neck and clothes cling to him like she wanted to. Claire put her hands behind her back, pressing her thighs together and digging her nails into her palms just to feel something other than the pressure that would need to be satisfied later. The elevator sounded, they both walked out, Claire’s room coming through first. “I’ll come by your room and we can go to whichever restaurant you think is the best,” Owen said, walking backwards with a dimpled grin on his face. 

Claire had to restrain the blissful sigh that fluttered around her chest. 

The rest of the afternoon, Claire relaxed in her hotel room, taking out her dress and hanging it up on the back of a door and taking a bath. She had considered imagining her soulmate doing the things Owen had done to her in the past - touch herself with the man she loved in mind - but every time she thought of it, she couldn’t get the image of Owen’s creased brow with his jaw hanging slack as he came, holding onto her fiercely just to make sure he was touching her. No matter how pulled her heart was, she favoured the one she had the chance to touch in reality. And it hurt the more. 

Pushing her hair up into a tie, the waves of her hair tumbled down to her back and loose hair framed her face as she applied her makeup. Her toes danced to the music on the radio, touching up her lipstick and giving herself one last check in the mirror in her dress. It was just a black dress that hugged her curves and a off the shoulder neckline. It was only a few more minutes before a knock came to her door. Claire raced to it, opening the door wide as Owen stood fixing up his suit jacket. Smiling she invited him in as she went for her shoes and purse. “Sorry, I’m ready, just gotta -” Claire started, hopping as she put on her heels, noticing the stare in Owen as she wriggled the shoe on. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, no hesitation and - if she could trust the feeling - a look of wonder. Claire straightened and fixed her dress at her hip.

“Thank you,” she said, looking down at herself to hide the blush that was creeping onto her cheeks, “you always manage to surprise me.” She chuckled, regarding his suit. He wore a suit with rolled up sleeves and no tie, letting the first few buttons stay open to help him breathe. 

“I was considering the shorts again,” he smirked, the obvious joke almost making him laugh. 

“Well, aren’t I lucky,” Claire giggled, taking her room key and putting into her purse. 

“Very.” 

They walked to the restaurant that Claire had been eager to visit. It was down the street from the hotel, so it was reasonable for any staffers to walk to, and for the pair to walk to for dinner. Getting their, Claire was happy to find that the place wasn’t booked out, and still had a table for the pair to sit at. Owen grinned and they were seated quickly. Ordering off the menu and getting a bottle of wine for the table, Claire and Owen joked over their meal; Claire watching as Owen’s smile perked and left dimples in his cheeks that made her feel a little light headed. 

Claire rested the wine glass against her temple, “You said something the other day,” she started, “about meeting your soulmate. How’s that going?” 

“Oh,” Owen suddenly became bashful, moving back into his chair; as though he wasn’t expecting such a serious question to be raised. “It hasn’t. I was wrong. I thought...I thought I was ready, but I fucked up,” he said, clearing his throat. 

“I somehow doubt that,” 

“I don’t know,” he scoffed, picking up his wine glass and sipping at it. It was quite obvious that he didn’t care for wine; the soft cringe at the corner of his mouth and the crinkle at the ridge of his nose as he swallowed. Claire chewed at the inside of her lip, stopping herself from smiling and giggling at the sight. 

She thought of his lips, the way they curved and held a firm smile and how they once felt pressed to her core like they were made to latch onto her sensitive skin. Claire was a sucker for that mouth, watching it move and wondering if her mind made him better or worse in reality; she wanted to test drive her imagination every chance she had around him. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, and Claire straightened. 

“Hm?” 

“You’re just...looking at me differently,” he shrugged and Claire felt hot all of a sudden; as though she was caught in the traps of her own lust. 

“Sorry, daydreaming,” she apologised, looking away to drink her wine. She hoped that it was the alcohol that made her cheeks burn and not just Owen. 

The dinner remained as perfectly joyous as always; Owen lifting tension that remained on her shoulders and anguish of her heart. She knew it was wrong to fantasise about happiness with him, but he made things seem so easy, that he could just erase the hard part of her wantings - that it was okay to crave him and be with him no matter who her soulmate was. 

They walked lazily back to the hotel, letting themselves sober up, even though they didn’t drink very much. It was just a way for Claire to stay in his company as the night came in and the Costa Rican moon pushed him to look even more gorgeous than he did in daylight. They walked back into the hotel, going up the elevator in silence before their floor came. As Claire was at her door, she stopped, looking back at him and wondering why she wasn’t going inside. 

“I like our dinners,” she confessed, pursing her lips together nervously. 

“So do I,” Owen chuckled, his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you for coming with me. I probably would have gone mad if I hadn’t had you trying to persuade me,” she said with a breath following her words. 

“I had fun on this trip. Gave me some time to just...stop, y’know?” he shrugged and Claire nodded. And there she was again, falling for the thoughts in her head. Her eyes dared to look at his lips - the fullness of them and the glisten of them as light touched them. She was staring but she didn’t care. She wanted to do it - to kiss him like she’d never kissed anyone. Pushing herself back against the door of her room, she locked eyes with him, breathing a little heavy and smiled through her embarrassed heat rising.  

“Goodnight, Owen,” she muttered, unlocking her door. 

“Night,” he grinned, walking down the hall to his room. She pressed herself against her door when she closed it, leaning against it as she let her mind think of it; letting him kiss her and she kissing back just to feel the thrill of it. 

She dreamed of him that night - kissing him in the way she wanted, him holding her and tight fingers binding into her hips as he came. She dreamed of Owen’s fingers trailing over her ribs until they moved to her face, making her whimper at how soft a touch he held her with after the dangerous grip he placed on her hips. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she’d have his fingers bruised into her when she woke up. 

And when she woke, Claire felt...weightless. She wasn’t torn, she wasn’t confused. She had everything she needed and wanted. But over time, her mind reminded her of what she had, her breakfast with Owen short and silent after joking with him for a little while. The ride on the ferry didn’t consist of anything fun, and Owen had gone off, watching the waters on the other side of the boat. They didn’t see each other off when they arrived back on the island; instead, Claire went to her office, put everything into the schedule and sent out the staff wide email on all the details. In two weeks, they’d have their picnic, everything was taken care of. 

How did that stupid island get to her all the time? The mainland had been fine, but as soon as she arrived back to the place she had called a home, she felt trapped by everything, including her own thoughts. She went back to her room, finding herself going to bed early and drifting into sleep. 

Upon waking in her dream, she walked aimlessly until she found her soulmate on the shore of a beach. He waved to her, embracing Claire as she came over to him and the two sat at the water’s edge, the cooling sensation of what water could feel like. And she knew...she had to say something; she couldn’t avoid it. Every dream lately wasn’t him. Claire needed to tell him. 

“I need to tell you something,” she blurted and he turned to her. 

“What is it?” he asked, voice low and comforting. God, why didn’t that help?

“My dreams lately. I’ve been having them with someone else,” she explained. 

“Oh?” 

She shut her eyes, just as she started to ramble and make sense of it. “Well. Not with someone else. About someone else.” 

“What kind of dreams?” he asked, playing with sand.

“Yeah...well,” Claire stuttered, trying to find the words, but the implication was already there, hidden away in her shyness. 

“Oh,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, a little ashamed. 

“Are they good dreams?” he took a breath, as though of intrigue and not hurt. 

“Yes,” she said quickly, not meaning to. “I just wanted to tell you. To make sure you know that I’m not...nothing’s changed. I think it’s just -” 

He stopped her by taking hold of her hand and kissing at her knuckles. Claire lost her words in a moment. “You never have to explain things to me. You’re my soulmate. Nothing else matters.”

“Why do I always want to kiss you when you say things like that?” she sighed as he laughed. 

“I’m a special guy,” he said, and just for a second, she thought she could see the shadows on his face disappearing, but it was only a thought. 

_ I love you _ . She wanted to say it, she wanted him to know that she’d always want him, always want to kiss him. But she somehow couldn’t say it with the fullest of her heart - she wanted it to be true. But she knew she felt something deeper than just lust for Owen; she wanted him just as much as she wanted her soulmate. And that meant she could never say those three words to him, no matter how much she wanted to. 

For a moment, she imagined they were two different people; that she could see him, and that  _ I love you  _ could be said without doubt or second thought. And knowing that his response would always be the same. 

_ I love you too. _


	6. When The Light Exposes Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30k words! Wow, this has been a fucking ride guys! I’m so incredibly proud of this fic, being the longest Clawen fic I’ve ever written! Thank you for the response. As always, thanking my beautiful beta Clare who doesn’t even like clawen but puts up with my writing anyway!

When Owen had brought her to ecstasy, his moans of pleasure in her ear, she clung to him, hair scattered around her and across her face. Owen looked up, laughing at her as he combed hair out of her face. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she panted, trying to breathe between her soft giggles, feeling the sweat pooling on her skin. He was gentle with her, hands roaming her as to soothe her into the aftermath of it all. 

In daylight hours, Claire had craved a touch like that; where his hands would be on her, staying on her for longer than just a moment. Her dreams gave her the opportunity to just thrive in his hold. She could be anything in his eyes, in his arms, when he was inside her. They were perfect together in her dreams, tangled like wires but electrifying nevertheless. 

It took her breath away whenever he looked at her the way he did; a smile so blissful it radiated through her. If she didn’t know he was just her imagination, she’d think he wanted her - he loved her, even - and she fell for the way his eyes lit up and soothed her heated skin and fired it up all in one. He made her feel like she was the weather, changing and wild, yet beautiful regardless of what she could do to him. 

He was tender, reveliving pressure from her body, shifting downwards to her disappointment. “What are you doing?” she whined, trying to hold onto the back of his neck. He scoffed, kissing in between her breasts, pecking at each just as his eyes flicked to hers. She sucked in a tight breath, watching the intensity behind them and felt a wave rocket through her body. 

“Looking for a treat,” he grumbled, kissing down her stomach. 

“Hey, you’r-” she tried to stop him, unsure of how tender she may have been, but he hooked a knee over his shoulder, his mouth soft against her folds, kissing it and taking long strides with his tongue. He was teasing her and doing a hell of a job at it. “Oh god,” Claire moaned, throwing her head back into her pillow, arching her back sharply as he moved his tongue across her centre. 

“We taste good together,” he grumbled against her, the vibrations making her leg shake. He caught onto her knee, maneuvering himself closer to her. He sucked on her slit, his tongue teasing and playing with her sensitive little bundle of nerves. His tongue worked wonders, something she’d never experienced in real life; and at her rate, probably wouldn’t until she was barely able to keep up. Now, she was left defenseless against his mouth and the tricks he was performing. 

Hand clawing at the linen underneath her hand, burying her face into her pillow as her brow knitted. Owen had curled her knees over his shoulders, his arms wrapped around her thighs and hands flat on her belly, feeling the desperate breathing she had to do to contain her moans. “You have an amazing tongue,” she panted.

Owen’s mouth stopped, his hand taking its place, rubbing at her clit in soft motions that made her shiver at the change. “You saying my cock isn’t good enough?” he said, kissing up her thigh, letting his thumb still and it made her whine. 

“Never said that,” she chuckled, combing her hair out of her face. Claire felt herself unbinding, losing what she craved until his mouth latched onto her again, his arm slipping from her thigh to underneath her, a finger dipped inside her as to just stimulate her. Claire whimpered, bucking against his hand just as he added another finger. “Don’t stop.” Claire reached out her hand running through his hair, the soft waves so gentle and slipping through her fingers - like wisps of smoke.

“Wanna hear you scream my name,” he muffled out his reply. Claire hummed, trying her hardest not to latch onto him; not feel like she couldn’t when she woke. Instead, she did the opposite, her fingers curling until his hair was firmly in her grasp and keeping him centred. He had her exactly where he wanted; and she had him in the best possible position she could imagine. 

“O..O,” she tried to form the word, tried to make herself form the word without it coming out as a desperate plea as it had always done. Instead, she didn’t say anything, she moaned and whimpered, trying her hardest not to say his name, because it was exactly what he wanted. And it spurred him on, making him work wonders just to hear her call out his name to a void that no one else could hear. But she knew his game, what Owen would have wanted; if he were dreaming in a nothingless void with her, he’d want to make her call out his name so loudly that other people dreaming could hear her too. 

As Claire thought it couldn’t get anymore interesting, Owen added a third finger, the added pressure had her moving harder against his mouth and hand, trying to gain the traction he was withholding. He had pulled back, trying to slow things down to have her begging, but she didn’t want to lose this one. Teeth scraping against her, she bucked and tightened her thighs around his head, leaning forward only to fall back. 

Hopelessly, her back bowing, arching to fall a few moments later, she was close to her edge. It was building to its peak, and breaking suddenly that Claire lurched forward, clasping her legs around his head, hand pulling at his hair desperately and her legs shaking so much that her heel hammered in his back. “ _ Owen _ !” she cried, falling down slowly as her orgasm washed over her in waves, small kicks to his back, only soothed by his hand running up from her ankle. It caused her to shiver at the same moment of another wave. The feeling so blissful, she moaned into her spot. 

Owen ran kisses up her body, making them linger and stain her skin like no one else could. “I love it when you say my name,” he mumbled, kissing at her sternum. She found it more comfortable to laugh in his bed, to giggle and linger in the joy of it all. She rested just as he kissed her briefly, combining hair from her face again, cupping his hand at her cheek. 

“Get used to it,” she breathed, smiling wide. He looked at her with those weather-wondered eyes, and she lost the breath she was trying to breathe. 

“Claire, I -” 

It wasn’t long before Claire was scrambling from breath, waking in a heat that had her feeling as though she still has Owen pressed deep within her. “God, just one night, I’d love to just kiss him until I woke up,” she groaned, tossing over in bed. They had fallen into their climaxes from a great height, a safe home for them to cherish as they broke down. In that moment, she had never felt more alive. There were times where Claire woke regretting the moments she spent defenseless against what her dreams had her pursuing; and there were times where she just wanted to fall back asleep to see if she could catch the last remnants of the dream that had her smiling.  

It was still hard for Claire, knowing what her heart wanted and what was destined for her; it felt like for the first time she wanted to stray from her safety and let herself run wild. She may be safe in her soulmate’s arms, but she found greater joy when Owen smiled at her. Claire had found that, now - more than ever, she was listening to her heart. Years of her life, Claire had known she was ruled by reason, that impulse was never her strong suit - but she wanted more than that. She wanted to feel everything she’d rejected from herself. 

Putting on a mustard yellow summer dress, wrapping on the tie at her waist, she fixed up her bathing suit top, tightening the knot behind her neck. If she was going to the beach with the rest of her staff, she might as well enjoy it the way that she wanted. Plus, was there really any harm in showing off a little?

Hitching up her bag on her shoulder, Claire looked to her favourite coffee house, begging that the regulars were in and knew her order. Just as she was looking around the corner, a broad shouldered man that had taken her breath away the night before walked with ease. Claire couldn’t help it, she smiled as her heart electrictrified, the skipping and hammering of it like a crowd in an arena. He waved to her, rushing over in his flip flops and boardshorts, his t-shirt loose but he fixed it back onto his shoulders. His smile was wide, like a child, but she’d fallen for it a thousand times over.  

“You’re up early,” he remarked as they stood a few feet apart. Claire’s hand gripped into the strap of her bag, burying her nails into her hand. It wasn’t as though she was nervous around him, it just became harder not to sigh in wonderment at him; Owen made her feel girlish and weightless, and it made it harder to be herself. 

“So are you,” she nodded, raising her brow. Owen chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Wanted to talk to you,” he said, a hunch in his shoulders, curling forward as though he had regrets that needed to be lifted, yet weighed him down in the meantime. 

“Oh?” she muttered, chewing on the inside of her lip.

“Is there anyway I could get out of today?” he said, voice soft and low. Claire’s jaw shut tight. This was the moment she didn’t want; the fear that he was pulling away, that he didn’t want to be around her. And the thought that haunted her most; he was going to finally meet his soulmate. 

“Why?” 

Her breath caught in her throat, begging to remain just sensible for a few more moments. She just had to wait. “It’s just…” he stopped himself for a moment, “I don’t feel right leaving the girls here with people that don’t know them,” he said, a breath out in worry. Claire let herself breathe, shrugging at his request. 

“I mean, if you don’t feel comfortable, I’m not going to force you,” she started, a small giggle in her voice, watching as he smiled lightly, “but Owen, you deserve just a nice day out without wondering about them, or doing some other odd job. You’re going to a beautiful beach, you’re going to spend the day in the sun and enjoy it for once without suffering. It’s up to you but I’d want you to go,” she tried to persuade him, fluttering her eyes at him. And he knew what she was doing. He laughed, rosy cheeks as his head fell forward. Claire felt her chest go tight at the sight of him. 

“Okay. I’m going to worry though,” he smirked and Claire bit her lip, suppressing the urge to laugh with him. She found that he made her far giddier than she’d ever been as a girl. 

“I never doubted that,” she replied. “Did you want to grab a coffee?” she asked, pointing over his shoulder. He turned, seeing the coffee house they’d been to together multiple times. 

“Yeah. Plus, I want to get an actual seat on the ferry this morning,” he remarked, letting her by so they walked toe in toe. Owen had a fairly casual pace, and on this morning, Claire fell into it. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot standing the whole time can be a pain,” she responded with a groan. 

“Also, I’m sticking with you the whole time, you always manage to get the better seats,” he replied and Claire scoffed. Owen opened up the door to the coffee house, letting Claire walk through first. 

“I can’t promise anything,” she chuckled, Owen walking up behind her, his hand on the small of her back for a few moments. 

“Don’t think you’re losing me today,” he whispered, winking at her. Claire smiled, feeling herself become weak, utterly under his spell. He flirted and teased and all of it worked in a matter of seconds. She didn’t know how she could handle much more resistance on her part. 

They got their coffee, sitting by the pier, joking and laughing at whatever came to mind. They found themselves in spirals of laughter. There were times where Claire couldn’t breathe, clutching at his arm to try and stop him laughing just because she could feel the stitch in her side. Owen leaning against the back of the chair, tears at the edge of his eyes as he clutched his stomach. The hysterical laughter was most likely the result of the mountain of caffeine and no breakfast, but it all around passed the time, waiting for people to pile onto the pier. 

As everyone came onto the ferry, Claire and Owen had already found seats, saving some for their closest friends on the island. Barry sat beside Owen, where Claire had Zara at her side and Vivian and Lowery sat just behind them. The entire main staff boarded the ferry, excited cheers and clapping as the ferry began its slow journey to the mainland. Claire rolled her eyes at the clapping, just as she did, Owen started clapping next to her, making her scoff at him. He smiled and watched them undock from the pier. 

They started chatting amongst themselves, the girls talking about Zara’s upcoming wedding, wondering what kind of dress that she was going to wear. It was strange to meet someone who was having a soulmate wedding; knowing it would last. Claire had been to a few, but never of someone she’d known and had called a close friend. Claire and Barry talked briefly across Owen about how he’d been missing home, but was excited about everything at the park; even that he was inviting his family out because they couldn’t make it to the park’s family day. Lowery and Owen whispered to each other, most likely about the bet, as she heard Owen say something to the matter of ‘two hundred is mine’. She smiled softly to herself before she talked with the girls again. 

All the while, she felt scattered, her attention drawn this way and that, never attached to a single source for longer than a few moments. She would toss her hair or touch at her neck, just to see if it would gain his attention. She felt like he was the only thing worth her attention, unable to tear her eyes away for more than a few minutes. It was an itch, scratching up her back, crawling across her skin like sweat that rolled across the soft skin of her back. With each look, she couldn’t help but notice his smile, or her ears would prickle to the sound of his laugh. It made her think. 

Claire wondered about why she disliked him; that he could read her and know her closely without even  _ knowing _ her. She had detested the notion once, that it was odd that he could see beneath her hardened shell whenever everyone else barely chipped at her surface; not even her family could see past it. Yet, as weeks and months passed, her walls broken and heart open, she liked that he fell so easily into her life. Owen was a piece that fit into her morning routine, that he was the person she wanted to talk to when her nights were drawing in only to dream of him the whole night long. Owen was the thing she was missing, and she had been so adamant on pushing him away. 

Asking herself, how, she found that she didn’t care. He knew when she was hurting without asking, knowing to just be there, to talk or send her ridiculous pictures of animals; he was the person she needed. Claire thought that her soulmate was the only person who saw her; never having to ask her what was the matter, just being around her was the thing she needed. Yet, in all her wildest imaginings, she could have never have predicted that Owen could win her over, that her soulmate would no longer be the only contender of her affection or love.

In her little escape into her mind, she wondered if there had ever been a mistake, that soulmates were just an estimate but sometimes not accurate. He may have been someone that got on her nerves, but he cared, he took his time, and his teasing wasn’t all bad. She wanted both of these men, even if one openly loved her, and the other she just wanted to love her as much as she was beginning to. 

“What’s wrong?” Owen asked, and Claire straightened her shoulders. And it was then that she realised that she had been staring; vagued out, but staring nonetheless.

“Hm?” she recovered poorly and she knew it, wrinkling her brow. 

“You keep looking at me like that,” he replied, tilting is head at her. Claire combed hair behind her ear, avoiding looking directly at him as she blushed. 

“Just tired, I guess,” she bit at her lip, clearing her throat. 

“I take offense to that,” Owen scoffed and Claire looked back up, realising her mistake. 

“No. Just,” she tried to correct herself but knew she couldn’t come up with an excuse to her words or actions. “I don’t know.” 

There was a beat left in the space of them, only feeling like it was the two of them in their space. For a moment, it seemed like Owen wanted to reach out - to touch her, but he let his fist softly hit his knee, licking at the edge of his lips. “You look…” he started, “you look really nice today,” he said with a delicate sigh. Claire held her breath. 

“Thank you,” she let out her breath, trying not to giggle under her breath. 

“Just the way your...hair falls in front of your face and your eyes and -” he stopped for a second, his cheeks flushing red.

“If I didn’t know any better...” she let him go free, not letting him stay with the thought he might be saying something untoward. 

“I’d be flirting with you,” he said, no hesitation in his voice before he turned to her with a devilish grin, “don’t worry, won’t be stepping on any toes,” he smirked, scoffed as he turned to Barry, talking about the trip and conversations that she could quite follow. 

“Wish you would,” Claire said under her breath, turning to him and watching as he looked over his shoulder to her, the smile that always had her on the edge of her seat, watching to launch herself forward just to kiss him. she held herself back, turning to her own friends. When conversations ran out, Claire didn’t feel like sitting; plus, leaving the side of Owen would let herself unwind. She may be getting soaked in him, her mind clouded by the way she found herself falling for. 

At the edge of the ferry, she leaned on the railing, watching as the ferry glided over the surface. The horizon a reflection of the morning sun and the crystal blues that blended to create a living canvas. There were very limited moments where Claire could indulge in such views, that she can watch the ocean crash and ripple around her without it touching her. She was captivated by he colours and water, the island that she worked; such overlooked beauties for her job. Claire wasn’t self absorbed as some might think, she just had other priorities, and they always led her back to work.  The wind blew past her, sweeping her hair into the breeze and she hunched over the railing. 

To her surprise, a hand met at the small of her back, touch so light, it barely took her, but she straightened nonetheless. Owen rounded her, his hands on the railing as he stood beside her. 

“Hi,” she smiled, wanting the hand that touched her to have a little more pressure than he applied. Casual and warm, she wanted to feel him be affectionate without effort; but they were on their way there. Hopefully. 

“Hey,” he replied back with a smile, looking out onto the horizon, “never really noticed how beautiful this place is,” he hummed. Claire scoffed, looking over to him. 

“Costa Rica, Owen. It tends to be beautiful,” she said, looking back to the water. The waves crashed and creatures bobbed at its surface, causing wonderfilled gasps from everyone who could see. Claire still watched the water, marvelling at something that could be so small yet so beautiful, yet wide and dangerous. Owen shifted closer to her, but she didn’t care to mind, liking his presence, the way he could calm waters that raged. 

“Guess I wasn’t paying attention.” His voice was lower than she expected, and it made her pause. The moment felt tense, charged with words neither of them had been able to say - would be able to say. She looked at him, staring at her with a fond smile that rivalled all the others she’d ever seen; a smile that welcomed her with warm arms and embraced her thoroughly enough to keep her feeling so close to him regardless of the distance. 

She wasn’t used to intimacy - feeling so bound and vulnerable to someone. Yet, he did it; the ability to make her feel soft and treasured when she was so used to being rough and cold. It was easier than taking someone on. She was very much like Owen, even if she denied it; they both distanced themselves from people, liking their own company compared to anything more. To have him around her made her feel so welcomed, so tender and warm; there were times where Claire forgot she couldn’t have him. She shouldn’t want him. But she does. Every time she sees him, she wants him just that little bit more. 

As they began to see the mainland, Claire knew she wouldn’t have another private moment with Owen. There were so many things swirling in her head, but she knew she couldn’t hold herself together like she was. She needed to air out whatever she was feeling, to let it out in the open without driving herself crazy. Catching onto Owen’s arm, he stopped and stared at her, a crease in his brow. 

“Hey, is it okay if I talk to you tonight?” she asked. Claire was nervous, the words and the notion behind the words scared her. She wanted to tell him. She was going to. But how the hell was he going to react? She wondered if she could take heartbreak, take rejection like she could when she was young and naive? Maybe it would be easier to be rejected, to have him say no to the thoughts and feelings and for her to recalibrate to her ordinary self. At least this way he opened her up, had her wanting to be better for all of life; maybe she would meet her soulmate this way. Finally, an open mind and heart for him to run to her at last. 

“Is everything okay?” he said, hand running up the length of her arm. She shivered. It wasn’t fair that he could elicit such a physical reaction from her; why couldn’t she do the same to him? Why did she still want to? 

Claire waved off the question. “Of course! I’ve just...I’m going through stuff and I need to talk to you,” she tried to smile away her nerves. 

“Dinner? The same place?” Was his only reply. And she sighed, nodding.

“Yeah! I’d like that.” He nodded in return before the pair went back to their little group, being escorted off the ferry and only the buses that took them to the beach. The staff were put into multiple buses, taking them there gradually. Claire, along with other event organisers took the lead and made sure everything was in order. The beach itself was wide, with a picnic area, a catering tent for when workers get hungry and the water a nice contrast to the direct sunlight they had to bathe in. 

Owen came to Claire’s side, his face beaming as he saw the sports equipment and the volleyball section that was on a shaded part of the beach. He rubbed his hands together. “You look excited,” Claire rolled her eyes. 

“Well, what can I say. I really wanna win two hundred bucks,” he replied and Claire laughed. 

“Like I said, that money is yours,” she said with a wink. 

Claire found a nice section of semi-shaded beach underneath trees. She relaxed back onto her towel, and was soon met by Zara and Vivian who sat beside her, covering themselves in sunscreen. Barry, Owen, and Lowery did the same, setting their things down before racing off down to the side of the beach where they could enjoy their sporting equipment. 

The girls were relaxing, Claire letting down the halter of her dress, tucking it at waist to let herself bask in the sun a little. When a football came crashing down near them, the girls were startled up, seeing the boys gesture for the ball. Claire pursed her lips, standing and picking up the ball. 

“Dearing! Pass it here!” Owen called, a smile showing on his lips. Claire fumbled the ball between her hands before she straightened her shoulders, her fingers finding the way to centre themselves in the grip of the ball before she pelted it with everything she could muster in her shoulder. When it collided with Lowery’s chest, catching it in his shocked arms, he stared in awe. Claire thought her dad would be proud in that moment. Owen beamed back to Claire. 

“Pay up!” she called back, a proud smirk on her lips. 

“Oh come on! You trained her,” Lowery scoffed as Owen went over to the two men, hand extended. 

“Natural talent, Lowery!” Claire shouted, readying herself to go back to the girls when Lowery threw the ball in frustration, landing just a little ways further from Claire. She laughed, going over to it, prepared to throw it back once again when she saw Owen jogging over. Tossing him the ball, he chuckled, throwing it up and catching it again. 

“You’re a gift, Dearing,” he smiled, catching a breath as he lifted his hand. Claire responded, high fiving him quickly and biting at her lip as they both laughed. 

“It was no trouble,” she shrugged. Suddenly, Owen was invading her space, far closer than he had ever been before. His lips touched against her cheek, pressing to her skin and making her take a sharp breathe. He broke apart from her, but barely an inch, both looking at each other as they came to terms with what just happened. Claire felt her face burning; the sun had no effect compared to this. Owen’s own face had red running across his cheeks, awkward and bashful as he stepped back. 

“Thanks,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck and racing off down the beach, watching her over his shoulder a few times. Claire went back to the girls, who both giggled at her, teasing her as her cheeks couldn’t calm down. She put on her sunglasses, sipping on her water as the girls simmered down. 

They had been talking for a little while, remarking on work at the park being busy, but the retreat just a great day off. They talked about Zara’s wedding and what she had planned afterwards. Claire even mentioned the new dinosaurs and programs they had starting at the park, but kept the troubles to herself, as the girls managed to get excited about new dinosaur things; Claire felt their joy, it was good to like the animals they worked with instead of growing tired of them. 

“This day is the loveliest treat,” Zara sighed, laying back and taking in the sun. 

“Thanks, Claire,” Vivian agreed. 

“No problem,” Claire replied just as Zara sat up, adjusting her glasses down on her nose and looking over the brim. 

“I know I have a soulmate,” she started, “but I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to a man,” she gawked with a laugh falling her words. They all turned to see Owen and a few other men playing volleyball, falling down in the sand or sweat beading on their skin as the heat and exertion was getting to them. 

“Zara,” Claire scoffed, swatting at her assistant's leg.

“She’s right,” Vivian agreed, all three of them now watching as Owen wiped sweat from his brow before serving another ball over the net. “Owen is very attractive.” 

“Well, he’s got a soulmate,” Claire said, clearing her throat and trying to ignore the way his shirt clung to his chest. 

“That he’s never met,” Zara reminded them all. “God, whoever his soulmate is, they’re bloody lucky!” she remarked, jestering a little more that time. 

“Tell me about it,” Claire whispered under her breath. The girls all watched as the men stripped out of their shirts, diving into the surf and getting themselves drenched in water. 

“Oh my god,” Zara said a little too loudly, covering her mouth for a moment, “look at him,” she whispered to the girls. They saw Owen flick his head up from the surf getting back onto the sand and shaking his hair. In Claire’s defense of her staring, he was a wonder; fit and striking, it was clear that he trained more than the average man. 

He was in the army, wasn’t he? He needed a body like that to be in the army. 

In the middle of the thought, Claire caught sight of something; something that she’d only ever thought she’d see in dreams. Reality was so far away in dreams, rarely able to grasp. In Claire’s case anyway. Yet, that day, in that moment, she saw something that couldn’t be explained in just a second of seeing it. She had to get closer. She had to be sure. 

Standing, Claire smoothed out her dress and took her glasses up, pinning them up on her head as she walked carefully across the sand, trying to see him again. She needed to have him look her way again, she needed to be goddamn sure before everything came crashing down. 

“Everything okay?” Vivian asked. Claire felt like she could be frozen, but knew she was still walking. 

“J-just wanted to walk for a second,” she stuttered, continuing to walk, watching as Owen kicked up water at the other men that cooled down. But it was unmistakable, that perfect, line by line design on him. 

She almost missed it. It was even clear from a distance. One his left side, a distortion of colour that created a scar with a horrific story and clear it was one event. Holes with a blast zone had his left side laced with that scar, white and still pink in some areas. She’d know it anywhere. It was only supposed to be his. Claire had memorised it in her dreams, the way it looked, the way it felt. She’s caught her nails on the upper most part of his scar as she was nearing her end, almost tearing at it before her hands went to his back, tempered by a kiss that only he could give. It was her soulmate’s scar. 

And it was on Owen. Not just a dream, not just a dreamlike state she thought she imagined. The times where she traced her fingers over it, wondering if she would ever catch her breath, or the times where he leaned into her just so she could have the upper hand - have the control - and her palm rested upon it.  

It was his. It had always belonged to him. 

Her soulmate’s scar was Owen’s. 

She felt herself shaking. Breathing a little ragged as she tried to remain upright, but she felt her knees buckle, almost ready to give way at the slightest breeze. When it hit her, she froze but didn’t fall. She couldn’t fall. Not because of this. Not because of him. 

Claire stopped breathing for a moment, a breath she held left her the moment Owen looked at her. 

He was combing back his wet hair, shaking the water off his arms and off his shoulders. And it was as though he realised the moment his hand hit his chest. He gave himself away by mistake. 

He knew what he had done to her as her lips quivered and her eyes welled.  

They both knew. 


	7. My Heart Aches For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up getting the time and moving my ass along to write this week. It’s been hard but thanks for understanding. Anyway, as always, thank you for my beta Clare for fixing up my awful writing, you’re a great beta.

_ It was the night of her twenty-first birthday, and to say she was nervous was an understatement. Ever since the mess with Karen, Claire had anticipated this day, yet tried not to dread it. What if she wasn’t what he wanted, or that he could live without her? What was the point of knowing someone so thoroughly for them to just abandon her whenever they chose? She didn’t want to be part a statistic, not like... _

_ Claire was walking, but not a moment before she thought she was going to sleep. She walked a street, as though in a city, but there was no one else around. It didn’t feel frightening, it felt like she needed to find something, lost in the midst of the winding streets. She felt like calling out, but it didn’t seem like it would do much use; there were so many streets, anyone around would barely be able to hear her, let alone find her.  _

_ Taking herself around another corner after what felt like her twelfth-thousandth, she saw a man sitting on a gutter, picking at flowers that petals took to the wind. They wiped past her, hitting her that she had to brush them off. He didn’t even noticed. Yet, as she looked at him, there was something strange that she’d never heard of; his face was scratched out, like a photograph that had been keyed. She tried to focus her eyes, but nothing shifted. Claire cleared her throat, taking a look at herself and found that she was wearing a jeans and plain t-shirt combination. The man jumped, standing up, and his face didn’t change. She was hoping that it would when he saw her.  _

_ Instead of reacting, she put on a nervous smile, and waved to him.  _

_ “Hi,” she said, her voice small.  _

_ “Hi,” he replied, his voice low, like it was made of gravel, but it was beautiful to listen to. He walked to her slowly.  _

_ “How does this work?” she asked, giggling out of...well, she didn’t know, she just let it go without realising it was there.  _

_ “I have no idea,” he replied back with a similar chuckle. He was wearing something like she was, just jeans and shirt; but it was a seahawks jersey, so Claire knew that would make her dad happy. “I’ve been waiting for two years to see your face,” he said, her hand nervously running up her arm.  _

_ “Two years?” she asked, stepping forward as though she was pulled into his gravity, “wasn’t that hard?” She looked up to the mess that was the scratches, wondering if she’d ever see him smile and wondering if his eyes sparkled the way she thought they did.  _

_ “I can be patient,” he muttered, his hand on her cheek, barely present, but so warm to fall into.  _

Claire took back to her things, ignoring the worried voices of Zara and Vivian, both of them just sounded like white noise. God, why were her ears ringing? Why did she feel like she needed to be sick? And that she needed to shout and scream and hurl things at  _ him _ ? She picked up her bag only to be met with Owen tugging on her arm. 

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Claire spat out harshly, turning to Owen. She knew she looked like a raging bull, and he sure feared her like one. She pushed him off, pulling out her phone and calling for anyone or anything to come and get her. 

“Hey! You don’t get to do that,” Owen called, just as the staff were beginning to crowd, gossip about what the hell was going on. But they couldn’t have known. 

“Yes, I sure as hell do,” Claire scoffed. Owen finally got to her side, holding her in place. 

“Claire would you just listen to me!” he shouted, making her shiver. They both stared each other down, angrier than the other. 

“You lied to me for two years -” Claire returned her shout, and Owen let go. 

“- And I had to wait ten!” he shouted back, the resolve of ten years shattered as defenses came loose. Claire felt her knees go weak, almost buckle at the words. Her eyes started to well and she felt like she was swallowing her own tongue the way her throat felt tight. There was no longer anger brewing, she was on the verge of breaking. Owen flinched, a knee jerk reaction as her anger and his composure collided to create his breaking point; like glass shattering in the wake of a hurricane. He saw his mistake, and the hurt that they had both inflicted in the words he spoke; because he wasn’t wrong. “Claire, I…” he said softly, but Claire backed away, moving off from the beach. 

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Claire cleared her throat, pushing herself up the walkway and to the main street, fixing up her dress as her hands shook and her breathing felt shallow and useless. When her cab finally arrived, Claire couldn’t keep her hands from shaking as she gripped into her bag. She felt like her body couldn’t reset, on the verge of shutting down and completely breaking. 

When her mind was racing over a thousand thoughts, she couldn’t help but isolate the one; he knew. He had tried to explain, had even told her in the past that he saw her face clearly. And those dreams...they were all him. He had been inside her, kissed her until she saw stars and come inside her. Claire had wanted it but….this wasn’t what was supposed to happen; she was supposed to get things right. So, why was her life suddenly a disaster zone?

Back at the hotel, she went to her room, suitcase already inside and on her bed, Claire reclined against the door. Her legs held no purchase and knees were too weak to handle to crushing weight in her chest. She felt the tremor in her hands again, the shake that rattled her and her bones, tearing her up from the inside out. 

She felt like she couldn’t trust her hands; they touched him and didn’t know. Her mind focused on him, the way he smiled or how his jaw went slack when he couldn’t himself together, and she pulled herself away, shutting her eyes tightly to think of anything else. Her chest, the offensive part of her, still pounded at the thought of him; it still craved him after everything. 

In every moment, she felt trapped, confined to a space that wouldn’t let her breathe no matter how large of a space it was. Claire needed to do something - anything - just to not feel so helpless inside her own skin. Before she could stop herself, to think about what she was doing, she was tossing her things across the room, tearing at the clothes she had on just to get rid of the feeling on her body. When she was left with a room of scattered items, tossed bed and lamps on their side, she felt hollow. The rage and the pain that burned inside was but an ember, and she felt numb. 

She needed to get clean. She went into her bathroom, took herself into the bathtub and cradled herself there. The last time she had pressed herself so close, shielded herself from the pain of everything...she had seen her sister. The thought of what Karen said lingered in her mind, and Claire pressed her mouth to her knees. 

_ “There were times where I wished I never knew him at all.” _

Claire felt her lip quiver, but she didn’t break. Even if everything in her wanted to. She wasn’t going to break. And no matter how long she remained in the bath, she would always remember what every touch he gave her felt like - every glance, every smile, every kiss - she’d always remember it. And they wouldn’t leave her be. Sinking into the depths of the water, the only place she felt safe, she screamed; for as long as her lungs could take it, she screamed. The pain, the loneliness of ten years, the betrayal; everything was yelled into the water that wouldn’t tell the world a thing of what she was going through. 

When she was gasping for air, she leaned over the edge of the tub, the inside of her chest finally feeling what her whole body was; like it had been so physically hurt, it was a miracle she was still standing. Combing back her wet hair, her hands still unable to find any form of normalcy, she knew she had to get up and get dressed. Dressing in the pajamas she brought along, hearing the buses roll up outside. Moving out of her bathroom and into her room, she peered out the window, seeing that the rest of the staff was coming in to the hotel, the afternoon looming outside and Claire’s day had shortened to her surprise. Hoisting herself up, she stayed on her bed, thinking for hours about everything, about nothing and anything, that had to do with him.

_ “Eh, toss it up to my soulmate.” _

Owen had once said, boasting about his soulmate. It felt like a dam, washing over in realisation after realisation; waves crashing into her and making her over analyse everything lately. Even their past. 

_ “It’s complicated.” _

He said it constantly, never said her name, never even described her. He was talking about  _ Claire _ . He was always referring to her. She was the complication. She was the reason that he never had concrete information about his soulmate; because she was as distant as the description. Claire tossed in her bed as she thought on. 

_ “Can you see my face?”  _ He had asked her the night after that first dream of them in bed.  _ “I just wanted to know if things….had changed.” _

He…

He expected that things had changed - that they were finally different. If they were close in those dreams, why couldn’t they be in these ones. Why were they still so far apart. 

_ “What’s wrong?”  _ He was there that day after Karen left. He was there ready to talk to her; but why?

_ “I don’t wanna talk about it. Please leave.”  _

_ “Claire, I -”  _

_ “Please.” _

He listened but even in that moment she didn’t want him gone. She pulled herself away, tucked herself into safety like she always did. Hours were spent as Claire thought on everything, the way he talked, the way he stood, the way he smiled or touched her. He acted the same, perfectly the same in every version of himself. Even as she thought on it, she couldn’t realise how stupid she was - he was in the army, same as her soulmate; he always knew when things were wrong; he read her like he knew her, because he did. 

_ “I’m going to meet my soulmate soon.”  _

He anticipated it. The change in them. In what was happening to themselves.

**_“_ ** _ You know me.” _

He said that in that dream. It...it wasn’t her nightmare. It was Owen’s. He wanted her - the other Claire - because she saw him. 

Claire saw him. She saw him everyday. 

But did she? Before everything started to change, did she even pay attention to him?

_ Claire had been waiting on the pier all morning, the sign with his name on displayed and waiting for whoever he was to arrive. Owen Grady. That’s what the tablet said. New animal trainer.  _

_ When the 10am ferry arrived with new guests, there was one that stood out to her. He was wearing a button up shirt but the sleeves were rolled and his jeans hugged him but still seemed roomy. A bag was held over his shoulder, making his arm flex and shirt seem far tighter than necessary. He scanned the crowd as he walked down the ramp.  _

_ He saw her and he stopped. She remembered that. He stopped just at the bottom of the ramp. Somehow, just by seeing him...he seemed soft, gentle. He was patient. She remembered thinking he was patient. She shifted her shoulders, waiting with a tap in her foot as he finally went over to her.  _

_ “Hi,” he beamed, a smile wide and beautiful. He was gorgeous just to look at. There was something primal hidden underneath her skin, pulling her towards the gravity that he held. She had to fight the urge to want to be near him. Taking in a deep breath, she held herself tall.  _

_ “Are you Owen?” she asked, holding her tablet to her chest.  _

_ “Y-yeah,” he stammered. There was something to him, the way he leaned or even spoke. He was familiar. She pushed it aside, extending her hand and taking hold of his, shaking it firmly.  _

_ “Claire Dearing, operations director. I oversee your role here on the island,” “Okay, so let’s go to my office so you know your job. You report to me every other week, but I do expect written reports sent to my office every week,” _

_ “Yes, Claire,” he said, voice so light that even the sound of it made her chest flutter, shivers running over her skin. Claire rolled her shoulders, turning back to him. He was closer than she expected - but would come to find as their norm - and she held herself up, squaring her shoulders to match his.  _

_ “Ms Dearing will do,” she said, tilting her chin. He smirked, tucking his hands into his pockets. Why was he so goddamn attractive? This wasn’t a fair exchange, especially in the world they live in. “No need to get familiar,” she said, setting her jaw. Owen became straighter, the smirk lost and his eyes fading. There was something deep inside her, that twisted at the sight of his dwindling smile. She ignored it, pushing herself forward and guiding them into the main building.  _

Even before everything, before she did get to know him, she threw him aside as though he were nothing. He had seen her in person for the first time and she acted like she couldn’t stand being around him. As she cradled herself on her bed, knees brought up to her chest, it was the only time she allowed herself to cry, to bawl until her eyes stung and her chest couldn’t take the pain. She could sense a hovering of feeling, distant from herself, but so close, almost ready to touch - until it pulled away, chased from her cries and whimpers that only the brokenhearted could recognise. 

_ “There were times where I wished I never knew him at all.” _

Claire could see the sun coming up, and she felt the breaking point inside her chest. The sun made the room so light, it felt so foreign to be in her room. How could everything be so bright? Why was it that she felt so hollowed out that not even the breaking of another day before sleep could even come. It wasn’t like she planned on sleeping anyway, the thought of seeing him there when...everything was a mess. She couldn’t handle that much hurt. 

When her floor came to life and she was still curled up in her room, there was a knock that came to her door. A shake raced through her body; she didn’t want to see him, not now. The door rattled with another, lighter knock this time. A voice called from the other side, cautious and soft. “Claire? It’s Zara. You in there?” Claire sighed, getting up and going to the door. Opening it, she saw a weary smile on Zara’s face. “You weren’t at dinner and I haven’t seen you this morning. I got worried.” 

Inviting Zara inside, Claire tossed herself back onto her bed. “I didn’t feel like eating. Not with everyone watching,” she sighed, curling up on top of the covers. She found that Zara crawled beside her, curling up and looking at the lowly woman that Claire would seem to be. As Zara’s gaze held her, Claire knew in this moment of utter confusion and devastation, she still has someone to hold her hand if she needed. She always had Zara. 

“Then, we’ll get room service. Just us,” Zara replied and Claire scoffed, nodding in reply. They ordered up some food, knowing that everyone else was in the hotel restaurant for breakfast, and getting Claire to look presentable. They knew it wasn’t meant for spite him - to say she was doing fine no matter how he betrayed her - but just to feel okay; to feel like the world hadn’t just caved in on her. Claire sipped at the remainder of her coffee as they had Claire sitting in front of the mirror, Zara braiding Claire’s hair. 

“Did yesterday go alright?” Claire asked carefully. Claire looked in the mirror, watching as Zara smiled, and continued on with Claire’s hair. 

“Everyone loved the beach and the restaurants you suggested, everything was amazing,” she explained, but there was something that hung onto the end of her sentence; biting at her lip, there was something that Zara was keeping to herself. 

“But…”

“Everyone was talking,” she whispered and Claire groaned, covering her face. She should have expected this; they were yelling at each other on the edge of a beach, it wasn’t exactly subtle. “Owen left straight after so we don’t actually know anything, but I can assume,” Zara continued, and Claire straightened.

“W-what?” Claire stuttered.

“He’s your guy?” she questioned back and Claire ran a hand over her face. 

“It didn’t make sense,” she said, her chest feeling tight, “then I saw the scar. I knew it. I’d seen it so many times,” Claire swallowed the lump in her throat, but everything felt so confronting. Zara rubbed Claire’s shoulder. 

“And that’s when you found out?” 

“I couldn’t…” Claire stopped. Zara knew Claire’s issue - why they never talked about Claire’s personal life - yet, it was still hard to say these things to someone that wasn’t….wasn’t her soulmate. She’d only just realised that she only ever felt comfortable talking to Owen about it all. 

“I know. But nothing else?” Zara interrupted the thought. 

“It’s c-” she almost said what he did. But there were no other words. “It’s complicated.” 

“Come on. We don’t want to miss the bus,” Zara let it drop, and Claire was thankful for it. 

After finishing up with their breakfast and collecting their bags, they rode down in the elevator. Being around Zara felt easier than it had before - there was no pressure or expectations; just a woman who needed someone. And Zara took the role on like she was made for it. She was the perfect support if her job had anything to say about her skills. Claire should have known, but Zara knew what to do, and that meant everything to Claire. 

In the lobby, Zara took their bags, readying towards the buses that were waiting for the last minute members of staff. “Can you make sure we have everything ready on the buses?” Claire asked, and Zara nodded kindly. 

“Sure,” she smiled before heading off. Claire walked slowly in the foyer. She went through her bag, searching for her phone - she needed to get things in order, to press forward in her life instead of dreading on things she couldn’t change - mostly, she wanted to talk to Karen. It was hard to talk about this with her, but Claire felt like she needed Karen more than ever now. 

“Dammit, where the hell is it?” she cursed, stalling in the foyer as she kept going through her bag. Finally finding the phone, she was pulling up Karen’s contact when there was a shiver up her back that she couldn’t ignore. She arched her shoulders, trying to find comfort before she realised she wouldn’t - she couldn’t - because of the person standing behind her. Turning, she saw him, comfortable clothes, shorts and a t-shirt that fit him perfectly; it was her Owen. She took in a deep breath as she turned back around. 

“Claire I need to talk to you,” Owen said, his voice making her fragile. It always did - no matter what she told herself. 

“Not right now, Owen,” she said, trying to walk away, but he caught her arm, abandoning his bag. He took hold of her wrists, touch barely there, but it kept her still. They faced each other, daylight gracing them like a spotlight; they were the only people there, and she was defenseless against him when he held her so tenderly. She wanted that feeling under different circumstances; she wanted all of this under different circumstances. 

His voice was low, leaning in delicately. Claire felt herself catch a breath. “Claire -”

“Ten years. And you blame me for it,” she retorted, trying to remain strong, but he pulled her in, leaning down further and making her feel so small. It wasn’t the kind of small where one could be defenseless, that they were so tiny in comparison to the other. It was the kind of small that made her feel tender and precious, that he would take care of her regardless of what was happening to him.

“No, Claire, I don’t,” he said, voice low and steady, looking for something in her, eyes invading her own to see what he could do. There wasn’t anything he could say.

“Then -” 

He fired back quickly, kicking her off balance in a few words. “Then nothing! Do you know how hard it was to not tell you -”

“Why didn’t you?” she said, finally pulling herself away. Claire couldn’t allow herself to be sucked into the warmth of him, who he was to her. She had a right to be mad; she was wronged, and everything hurt. 

“Because I didn’t know what that was going to happen. I didn’t know if you’d hate me or if you’d just realise,” he said, trying to step closer but it hurt her. Everything he was doing, every time he was near her, it hurt. She didn’t fully understand why. but having him near her after the pain, and the hurt, and everything she’d done - it all hurt. 

“I’ve gotta go. This can wait,” Claire said quickly, pulling away and moving towards the door.

“Can it?” Owen called out. Claire stopped, clenching her fist, her skirt hitting the top of her knees from the halt and making her feel like she was about to fall. The right amount of wind could knock her over. Taking a breath, she turned. Even from a distance, she could see he was barely holding himself together. 

“This once, just let it.” 

“I’m...I’m tired of waiting, Claire,” he said with a pause. And something crumbled inside her, the tears welling in her eyes. 

“Then you shouldn’t have lied,” she said, feeling the tremble in her lip and biting into it to stop the shake. 

“I didn’t lie,” he tried to say, moving forward but was stilled when Claire stumbled back with her hand raised. 

“You didn’t even bother to tell me. So, is there really any difference?” she shrugged, moving through the doors as her eyes let slip tears. She wiped them away as though they were never there; no one would ever be the wiser. Reaching the buses, she tucked herself into her seat, shielded by Zara and noticing that Owen and Barry were boarding the next bus, regardless of how many free seats this one had. 

They all sat in awkward silence on the bus, avoiding the question everyone had; ‘what happened?’ There wasn’t a way she could explain it without it seeming ridiculous, and she didn’t owe an explanation. She still hadn’t called Karen. Maybe she could when she got back to the island. It was a distant thought; it had to be. 

Everything felt like it was moving past her like a daze, unable to grasp onto any one moment unless it felt like it was ready to blow the wind straight out of her. She was taken from her seat and onto the ferry, sitting patiently against the window and away from anyone with prying questions - she had Zara looking over her shoulder. When Claire’s eyes could barely remain open, her yawns becoming harder to ignore, Zara eyed Claire. 

“Hey, why don’t you go get some sleep? It’s going to be a while before we get to the island,” she questioned and Claire felt fear strike into her, the worry and doubt of it all. 

“What if -” 

Zara smiled, winking at her with confidence to boot. “I’ll make sure you won’t be bothered. Here, rest on this,” she said, handing over her travel pillow and sweater, pilling them together as she stood and went over to the main distraction that was keeping her awake. She watched as Zara and Owen talked, Zara guiding him away, but there was still that heart wrenching part of her that watched him as he left. 

Putting the pillow up against the window, and resting her head upon it, she found that she drifted to sleep in moments. In her dream, there is nothing. it’s just her, sitting alone in a dark room. It was peaceful - silent and unimportant. How tranquil nothing had become to her. Claire deserved it - she craved it. There was a moment where she thought she could cry, but in the end, there wasn’t much point in it. To dwell on the sadness when it mounted to more pain was useless and would end up disappointing her, for it would never have a resolution that way. 

She woke up when Zara nudged her, helping her get her bags and took her by without anyone asking or even staring at her; she didn’t like the eyes. Claire had a suspicion that Zara had threatened everyone with just a glare, but she couldn’t be sure. They walked for a while, just to make sure that they weren’t bombarded by people around the staff quarters. Everything they did seemed to have a direct and perfect plan to it; if Claire wasn’t careful, Zara could have her job in the blink of an eye if she really wanted it.  

Back at Claire’s place, they got everything in order, unpacked and talked about Zara’s wedding and the problems that were coming up. It kept Claire’s mind occupied and she promised Zara that everything would be fine, even when she left. Yet, in the aftermath of her assistant leaving, Claire was left with the only question that had haunted her for two days; he knew. So, she did everything she thought of; she cleaned, she dusted, she organised, she rearranged furniture before turning it back around because it fit everything she liked the first time. 

In her little kitchen, she looked to her groceries and knew that the only thing she could do now was go down to the staff market and buy herself supplies for the coming week. If she got out of her apartment, maybe she wouldn’t have to face the questions she had for herself. Getting herself in jeans and a singlet shirt, out of clothes that felt too light compared to how she was feeling, she headed down. Walking in aisles and scanning products, everything became tedious and tiring. Her life seemed more together when things were a shitshow. Now, everything she knew was a heaping lump of crap, doing anything seemed pointless. 

Rounding another corner, she saw Owen, collecting his own groceries. They both stared at each other, waiting for something. Claire didn’t want to start this again. So, she turned around, heading into the next aisle and getting everything she needed. 

“You can’t keep avoiding me,” she heard Owen whisper as he came up beside her. She recoiled sharply, pulling away and trying to stop herself from looking at him. She had to stop tempting herself the way she had been for months. 

“I can sure as hell try,” she muttered underneath her breath. 

“Please, Claire,” he pleaded and Claire scoffed. 

“Oh, don’t ‘please Claire’ me,” she whispered back angrily, finally facing him and not shying this time. She couldn’t feel so bombarded, so threatened with weakness that she wanted to get out of there. She was going to be spiteful; because she deserved to be. “Was I really so dumb to think that my own soulmate would tell me who he was,” she asked, raising her brow to lure him to answer back. 

“Claire. We never once asked each other our names. It was never important. I’ve known who you were for two years, sure,” he stopped, realising that this conversation wasn’t going to go his way, and it sure as hell wasn’t happening in a grocery store, “but things got complicated,” he sighed.

“Yeah, I’m sure your next sex position was a real hard one to figure out,” Claire spat back. “I’ve gotta go,” she muttered, turning towards the self-checkouts and buying everything she could as quickly as possible. She didn’t see Owen leave and didn’t check to see if he had or if he wanted to talk. She was done talking for now. She knew when the real conversation was going to start; when they couldn’t run away from each other, the only place that either of them felt safe was going to become a warzone. 

There was no avoiding anything this time; Claire had to face him. Even if she wished it otherwise, she had to go to sleep and make sure everything she knew was wrong - that she was a fool for never seeing. And when sleep came, she was the only one there, streets that replicated that of her first dream with him. The location, with fond memories, felt like it could crumble if they were to see each other now.

There was a street corner with brickwork buildings raising up high. It was where she’d first seen him; sitting on the gutter and it had been their spot when they first started to get the hang of things. It was easiest to find the corner because they were always drawn there. She remembered it so well, but had never wondered what it felt like. Her hand grazed over the bricks, catching on the rough edges. How perfect this place was. Solitude was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. She turned, seeing his face in their dreams, and knowing...Owen was her soulmate. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a smile. It was as if he had expected this to go well. Rolling her eyes, Claire moved on, only for her wrist to be caught before she could leave. “Are you seriously not talking? Claire, that’s a little beneath you,” he remarked. Claire turned back, yanking her wrist from his grasp, eyeing him down to make him feel so small, she could shatter him in a second. 

“I just found out my soulmate has been lying to me for two years just so he could sleep with me,” she replied, spite in every word. She began walking down the street, containing the rage that built in her chest like a coil ready to snap. 

“That wasn’t what happened,” he tried, following after her.

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause you certainly didn’t say anything after it started. Seemed like you wanted it to happen,” she scoffed, trying to pick up her pace. She was walking away from someone she couldn’t escape. It was better than just standing still. 

“Didn’t you ever consider that maybe it made things harder?” he said, keeping in step with her. 

“Oh yeah, real hard. Was it some sick way of getting me at last?” she rolled her eyes again before Owen stood in front of her. He was in her space, a space that was protective, now feeling suffocating yet she didn’t mind it if he took the last breath she had in her. 

“Dammit, Claire, there wasn’t any instructions on how to handle this!” he yelled and Claire’s jaw shut tight.

“And you handled it badly,” she replied, swallowing hard as she tried to get herself to have the upper hand. 

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he said, edging towards her.

“Back away from me.” Her voice was unsteady, much like how she felt, but at least her body hasn’t sunk to the floor like it wanted to. She was achieving one good thing in this dream.  

“Oh like it’d really be a bad thing. Not like we haven’t done worse,” he scoffed and Claire had suffered enough. Her palm came round, slapping him across the face as hard as possible. The sound alone echoed around them, taking through the countless streets and replying back over and over with the same sound. Claire gasped, cupping her mouth. She hadn’t realised she was going to to it. It had happened so fast; a moment filled with anger and hurt, she wanted it to be a double sided event. 

“I’m sorry,” she replied weakly as Owen rubbed at his cheek. “I just -” 

“I shouldn’t have said it. You were right,” he apologised quickly, not looking at her. It wasn’t as though he didn’t mean it; he was hurt that he had even thought of saying it, bringing her to that level of frustration. He didn’t want it to happen like this, and neither did she. “I’m sorry I didn’t back off,” he said, looking up at her, eyes pleading for a second chance. 

“Can we just...start over?” she asked carefully. With just a question, they both stepped back from each other, an unwelcome distance that felt more harmful than good. No matter how she was feeling, they were soulmates, and they were bound.

“Okay,” he replied, both walking cautiously in time with each other before meeting at the edge of a cafe, two steaming coffee mugs waiting. They both regarded each other; it was fitting. It’s what they had done in person, so what was stopping them here. 

“You knew, this whole time?” she asked, sitting down before Owen. He was shocked by the question, but took a seat, sighing as he sat across from her. 

“Yes,” he said simply. He grabbed for the mug in front of him, holding it for the warmth alone. He didn’t sip at it, or even look up from it. There was a tension in his shoulders that had him avoiding her. She didn’t blame him. “When we met two years ago, it was this incredible moment where I thought you were finally in reach,” he looked up, smiling as he spoke fond words to her, “but you didn’t even recognise me. Anything about me,” he said, his lips going tight and his jaw setting tight. 

“In dreams…” Claire replied softly, and Owen leaned in, “before,” she explained further, “you sounded different. I didn’t recognise the way you talked. But  _ you _ always felt...familiar.” Shrugging, she didn’t know how else to explain it, how he was always kept at bay by his voice or face. 

Owen chewed on his lip, his elbows on the table as he gripped onto his coffee cup. “When you looked at me like a stranger, I knew I couldn’t say anything then. How was I meant to explain to you that I knew you hated the way your hair looked when it was short and I thought it was cute? I wasn’t going to outright admit it. You didn’t seem to want to get to know me or even interact with me. I tried but you just saw it as...well I don’t know,” he explained, finally going for a sip. Claire ran her finger over the rim of the mug; she was the on now avoiding looking directly at him. 

“I just thought…” she sighed, trying to phrase this without seeming horrible. “I thought you were trying to sleep with me. Something happened with your soulmate and you wanted something to spite them,” she replied, trying to laugh away the idea.

Owen tilted his head as his brow rose in surprise. “That is...a lovely image I have of how you saw me,” he chuckled. 

“That was when I met you,” she said quickly, saving herself from her hurtful words, “that isn’t how I see you now. I promise,” she said, reaching across the table for his hand. He took it, his thumb running over the soft skin and across her index knuckle.

“I know.” 

Looking at him, it was easy to see why the universe put them together; a mess but one that wanted each other nonetheless. She wanted him when he looked sad and blue because she wanted to comfort him. She wanted him when he smiled because she wanted to be responsible. Claire just wanted Owen. And yet...she couldn’t in this moment. She pulled her hand away. “What happened when the dreams started?” 

“The -” 

“The sex dreams, Owen,” she clarified before he could ask. 

“It just happened,” he started with a sigh, “you were right there, barely wearing a thing, and you were  _ right _ there,” he said, reminiscing on the moment. Claire did too. She couldn’t say he was guilty in part for wanting one another; she saw him there and wanted him. And when he kissed first, she was thankful he did. “But I didn’t realise you thought it was…” he stopped himself before shrugging. “I don’t even know what you were thinking. It wasn’t until the end where you were just calling out  _ my _ name, I knew something was different. I over thought it and got mad at myself,” he said, looking at her with saddened eyes and Claire knew what went wrong; they both knew why it all went that way. 

“That’s why you were rude the next few days,” she clarified. 

“I thought I fucked up,” he said, sipping at his coffee again. Claire took another sip of her own, wondering how either of them created such a coffee that it tasted the exact same in dreams that it did at the coffee house they frequented. “I knew something you didn’t,” he explained, “and yeah it felt like I was doing everything against your consent. It felt wrong every time. I just...I wanted you and you seemed to want me,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. It sounded like the worst thing it could be; but that wasn’t it at all, it was just  _ complicated _ . 

“I thought it was an ordinary dream. That you weren’t real. I had built up this idea of you and I thought that’s what it was,” Claire said softly. 

“It was me.” 

“I know that now.” 

They both looked at each other and chuckled softly for a moment. They needed to ease the pressure that they weighed on each other. And hearing him laugh in that moment, she felt such ease. She could continue without feeling like she needed to cry every minute of this conversation. He made it easier when they both made it all the more difficult. 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. If you thought I would be expecting us to start where those dreams ended,” he explained. “I didn’t. And I don’t,” he justified. Claire nodded because she knew him, she knew what he was like even with that arrogant smile and an attitude to match, he would never expect that. “I put myself in this mess because I didn’t tell you after we met. After I knew you didn’t know me,” he said.

“It was complicated for me to tell you after it all happened. Even that night I told you. Soulmate dream version. It tore me up. I felt...like I was hurting you,” she said with a sigh, running her fingers through her hair before settling into her chair further and taking another sip of coffee. 

“You felt guilty because you wanted  _ me _ more than your soulmate,” Owen muttered, looking down at his coffee. Claire rolled her eyes, kicking at his shin underneath the table. He hissed before looking up at her with a smile. 

“I felt conflicted because I didn’t know how to tell him I wanted both of you,” she explained, and the smile he had faded. He hadn’t expected her to say it; that she could want who they both were. Who he appeared to her, in every version. “I still want you, Owen. And that guy that was in my dreams for all those years. It’s just hard to remember that you’re the same person. That you want me in every version,” 

“I’m sorry I fucked this up,” he said, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. Claire smiled, a bittersweet smile but it was wonderful to feel like she could. 

“All I ever wanted to do was see your face. To know who you were,” she said, swallowing a lump in her throat and sniffing away the choked up feeling she had running over her. “You should have told me. You shouldn’t have lied,” she explained, knowing that Owen already knew it. But they needed to air everything out. Owen nodded before shrugging. 

“It’s done Claire. I regret not telling you,” he said, soft and tender words that held no malice. “But how was I was supposed to bring up the fact that I was your soulmate, since the moment we met, you have shown an outward disgust of me. It didn’t exactly give me a vote of confidence,” he scoffed at the idea. Claire couldn’t fault him on that idea, but he sighed regardless, letting a hand run over his face as he took in his own words. “I’m not trying to excuse what I did. But you have to understand how I got to this point,” he asked her. 

“I do, Owen. And I don’t blame you for this. It was hard for both of us,” Claire said, getting up from the table and walking across the empty street. She walked slowly, her hands on the back of her neck and trying to stretch out the uncomfortable itching in her feet. _ Run. Move. Get away. _ All her body wanted was to avoid these feelings. But she couldn’t avoid feeling anymore. 

“How are we supposed to fix this?” Owen said, moving quickly up from the table and standing in front of her. He caught hold of her shoulder, running his hands across her skin where her shirt ended. His eyes were desperate for resolution. And she realised what brought him to this point more than anything; the fear of losing her. The fear of losing something you wanted more than anything but could never grasp properly. She was slipping from him. He felt like she slipping away. Claire’s heart broke for it. Her feet didn’t want to move anymore. “I don’t want the answer to be ‘there’s nothing left to fix’. I can’t handle that,” he said with a crack in his voice that he tried to disguise. 

“We have to...take it slow,” she said, phrasing it to sound like a question; could they, just now, after everything, take it slow so I can catch up? It’s all she asked.

“Are we okay?” he asked, clearing his throat. Claire had no idea how to answer that, how to answer the desperate eyes he begged her with. 

“Can we just walk for a while?” 

“Yeah. I’d like that,” he said, a beaming smile on his face as he took the lead. His smile was so kind, so bright and warm that it filled her with such a grace, such a europhic melody that she felt herself ready to hum or sing.  

And all Claire could think about was how much she wanted to kiss him and say things would be okay. Eventually. She didn’t want him to wait; and she wasn’t going to. Just a little more time. She’d be his. But nothing was fixed, nothing was set in stone, and no one could tell when their patch of happiness would arrive. For now, they walked, trying to remain civil, because what else did they have?


	8. See Me For Who I Am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, I take ages to write. First of all, I’m very happy with this chapter, my guys you’re gonna love it. Second, Chapter 9 is the offical end of the main story! I know! It says 10 chapters, but 10 is a surprise gift to you all! Have a blast with this one. As always, massive thanks goes to my beta, Clare for helping me when I want to pull my hair out!

Claire glanced at the time. 1:35pm. Twenty-five minutes. She had a little bit of time to finish this call. There was part of her that wanted it to end, but also wanted it to be endless. There was security in her office, safety. If she left, she’d feel so exposed. “I understand that the T-Rex is older than the others, but -” Claire said, withholding the sigh that naturally wanted to pass, “if she’s that sick, can’t we just,” “Listen, Terry, I get it. I really do, but we have to think about what’s best -” she was interrupted once more and felt her head get heavy. Resting it back into her hand, Claire took a deep breath. “Yes, I’ll call Henry as soon as I can,” she replied and the conversation was over. 

1:40pm. 

_ What if I just don’t go? I mean, I organised it. I don’t really  _ have _ to go. God, I don’t want to do this. It’s going to be so awkward. What the hell am I even supposed to talk about? It’s not like I can talk to anyone about this.  _

1:45pm.

She could waste more time like this, over analyzing herself. Claire was becoming a master of that. There was no avoiding something like this and she damn well knew it. Taking out her phone, looking at the large block number tick over to 1:52pm, Claire typed in her code and dialled Henry Wu’s number. 

It took a few moments for him to answer. “Hi, Henry. Is there anyway you and some people from your team can get down to the T-Rex enclosure to check on it? Apparently she’s not been herself lately,” she explained, making a few notes in her notebook, detailing everything from the previous conversation, “thank you, that’s a load off my mind,” she sighed and the line was dead. Claire combed her fingers through her hair. Why did she do this to herself? She was a walking, talking mess. 

There were times where Claire she could talk to him as openly as she used to. It was easy, without pressure and the hidden smiles that made her feel weightless. The smiles she has now were bittersweet, resembling what they once were but they lacked the heart. She was impossibly in love with him, but it was tainted by the things they couldn’t control anymore. And despite it all, she just wanted to talk to him; to touch him, to hold him until she couldn’t feel her own fingers from holding on so tight. There was something within her that craved it more than what drowning and craving air felt like. 

Gathering her purse and jacket, Claire shut down most of the things in her office, going over her list one last time just to check she didn’t miss anything. After altering a sentence or two, she went out of her office and locked it. “Okay, Zara, I’m heading out,” she announced, fixing up her blouse and hair and a nod of approval was given by Zara. 

“See you tomorrow,” she replied, smiling kindly back to Claire. 

“Thanks for this,” Claire mentioned, regarding the whole situation. She was the one that suggested, and she felt like she could trust Zara more as the days had gone by. Zara was the missing company that was a void in Claire’s life; she was so used to him being there, that it was lonely when doing the most mundane things. 

“Remember, call me after,” Zara said after Claire, who waved over her shoulder and went down the elevator. 

When she was in the main lobby, she looked at her phone again and saw the time. 2:02pm. Claire hissed out an aggravated breath. Hitching her bag up, Claire started to race out of the main foyer, dodging people and politely smiling to those she passed and almost knocked. When she got into the street, she tried racing a little harder in her heels but there were so many people she was dodging more people than she could run. And what she didn’t want to happen, happened. She collided with someone hard. Her head bumped straight into their chin and the two of them groaned. 

“Woah,” the man groaned. But of course, it wasn’t just any man; it was Owen. She hadn’t thought his name in days, and just the sight of him made her think of everything between them; the happy and sad and sweet and frustrating. This was their first time seeing each other in days...not since their fights and arguments. He rubbed at his jaw as she rubbed at her forehead. “Hey,” he smiled. 

“I can’t do this right now,” Claire groaned, trying to push past him as she continued rubbing at the pained spot on her head. 

“Why? You can talk to me,” he said, trying to keep in step with her. But she halted and turned to him sharply. 

“I’m going to a therapist, if you have to know,” she replied back angrily. She hadn’t expected herself to be so honest, but it was hard to lie to Owen. There was a silence between them, slipping through and past them, preventing them from saying anything further. Especially when his eyes looked that sad and her heart felt like it was unable to keep beating. Clearing her throat, Claire looked away. “I’ve got to work through stuff, Owen. Why didn’t I know when we met? If I couldn’t figure out that it was you, what the hell is wrong with me?” she tried to laugh it off, to hide the shame she felt, but it was no use; he saw through things like that no matter how hard she tried to hide. 

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you,” he said, voice like a whisper, but it held her in a grip of power, the idea to move was so foreign. Though she wanted it, wanted him to be so close that she forgot they may be two seperate people, she couldn’t take the knowledge that they’d be separating so soon after becoming one. Instead, his hand reached up to the side of her face, cupping her cheek so tenderly, like he couldn’t bear for her to break in his hand. She shivered, her breath shaking as he looked at her. She’d wanted him to touch her like that; to feel his real hand on her skin and touch her so sweetly. She could feel her heart flutter away. This wasn’t what it was supposed to feel like. She pulled away, stepping back once again, out of his reach. 

“Then why didn’t I know?” she asked, wishing there was an answer in his eyes, that he couldn’t say aloud so he said it all without opening his mouth. There was nothing. Licking at her lips, she stepped backwards and pushed her bag up her shoulder. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, voice low and tainted by just being near him.

Rounding corners, heading towards a personnel zone, Claire wandered trying to find the room where she was supposed to go. When the room number came up at the end of an unused corridor, she went inside, finding the room basically unoccupied save for the one blonde woman trying to eat a cup-o-noodles in one massive bite. She coughed, choking on the noodles and placed the cup aside. She cleaned her face with her hands and straightened her clothes. Claire glanced down at the woman’s desk. Tracey Addams - Therapist. 

“I didn’t think you were coming. Sorry,” she apologised, extending her hand to Claire. 

“I’m sorry I’m late, I got held up,” Claire said, apologising further. 

“It’s alright. Not everyone uses the therapist office here, so we’re not exactly busy,” Tracey replied with a small laugh. 

“That’s very true,” Claire scoffed. It was rare that anyone saw the therapist; the name alone scaring most people. A lot of people saw it as a traumatised personnel only thing; that you had to be scarred from the events with a dinosaur. But in this case, it was required for so much more. Most staff couldn’t go home, they couldn’t get to the mainland and it was a hassle to try and work out an appropriate time to go, so this was the perfect place to vent about their problems. Yet, considering how isolated the room was and how unattended the hallway outside, Claire could see that this place needed new advertising to staffers. 

“What exactly has brought you in today?” Tracey asked, opening up the door behind her and flicking a switch on the inside wall. Above the door a red light lit up, most likely meaning ‘occupied’, and the two walked into the private room. Claire sat down on the touch, her purse on her lap and fingers binding in tightly as her knees knocked together. 

“I’m...I’m having soulmate issues,” she said, clearing her throat. Tracey blinked before getting her notebook and closing the door behind her. She sat down opposite Claire, crossing her legs and looking over at the nervous redhead Claire knew herself to be. 

“What kind of issues?” she asked in return. Claire’s nails tapped into her purse, drumming a silent beat to ease the tension that had built.

“I just found out who he is, and it’s just got a little complicated,” she said with a chuckle, trying to play off her issue, but she wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t something, would she?

“Well, can you start from the beginning for me?” Tracey asked, and Claire sighed, knowing this was going to be long. At least she wasn’t paying for it; thank you Masrani Global health care. 

When Claire started to explain the situation, it felt like a weight being lifted from her shoulders; it was no longer her burden to bear alone. She talked about the first night and the times she spent knowing her soulmate, how she met Owen and felt drawn to him, and the mess that came after all of it. She talked about being mad and betrayed and locked into something she had no choice in, all because she couldn’t see who he was to begin with. To make matters worse, he’s unavoidable, and it hurts her because she knows she can have him. 

“This is what I get for believing so fully in soulmates. My sister isn’t happy. I’m not happy. Soulmates are a joke,” Claire sighed, collapsing back into the couch and her feet kicked up. 

“Why would you bring up your sister?” Tracey said, and Claire looked back at the woman. There was something about the question that nagged at her, pestering the corner of her brain. Don’t answer it. Why would she need an answer to that? It isn’t like Karen caused this. 

“Sorry?” Claire cleared her throat. 

“You said that your sister wasn’t happy. Why would you bring her up?” Tracey explained, and there was a look in her face that made sure that Claire knew...she couldn’t avoid him, and she shouldn’t. 

“Well…”

When her session was over, extended by about an hour and a half, Claire left feeling off. Things had become clearer but also more muddled. She was recommended to come back, to help her through the transition and to work out the simplest way to get things back on track with Owen. Yet, despite all the knowledge she had on the matter and how bad it all was, Claire just wanted to talk to him; to tell him that she was okay and that it was never his fault. But who would that help right now? Their dreams that night would not be comfortable and she dreaded it. 

And she was right, the sky was a mix of colours that collided to make browns and blacks, not letting any light through. The buildings were small and crumpled down to make awful pint-sized skyscrapers. Everything that made her dreams a wonderland to return to night after night became a nightmare scape of uncomfortable corners and buildings that could never house a damn thing. 

Owen walked up behind her, his racing feet were loud on the pavement and his ragged breathing was enough to tell her that he went to her quickly. He peered around, his attention chasing the surroundings, not quite believing them to be their true dream. When his gaze fell on Claire, she felt timid and shy, knowing this was her fault, that she couldn’t maintain a happy presence when she felt so lost. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice as solid as ever, confident compared to Claire’s weariness. She cleared her throat and looked up to him. 

“Can we just walk?” she asked and he nodded, letting her lead the way. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said softly, taking a glance at her before his gaze remained ahead of them. It felt so wrong to walk with him, to not say a word or for him to not glance a second time. He remained looking forward for the rest of their dream, not asking questions or even trying to see her. 

Claire determined that the space she had asked for was nothing more than a burden. 

When she woke up, it was to sweat soaked sheets, weary eyes and an all encompassing feeling of dissatisfaction. Waking felt barren, that even with the presence of him in her dream, not having him - the essence of who he was - there was draining and lonely. No matter how much she wanted to keep the distance between for the time being, the amount he was giving her was damaging. All Claire could think of doing was calling him, to ask him to come over, to just... _ hold _ her. But she knew the moment she crossed the line that there would be no turning back. She just needed time. What a horrible thing this all was. 

Weeks passed with limited contact. It surprised her when she found that Barry was going to more meetings and the times where it was with Owen, and somewhat to Claire’s blessing, limiting their time together. He brought her thorough reports, appeasing the perfectionist within her. Yet, there were times where she wanted to stop him, to talk to him and tell him what was going on with her. Yet, he maintained the distance that she had strived for in the beginning of this mess. Claire regretted the walls she had built, the distance that she insisted upon. It wasn’t meant to be as permanent as it was becoming. Claire needed time on her own, space to work out her headspace. It was now becoming their norm, how they would fit together and be regardless of what would come. And she hated it. 

As the weeks passed, their dreams were same, coloured in strange and awful mixes of colours, buildings no longer able to stand and just roads that winded around nothing that they followed silently. They talked a few times a night, just small things, trying to lighten the mood and to get the awkwardness away from themselves. There were times where the silences would go on for stretches, and Claire couldn’t think of anything to say, trying to think of something - anything - that would get him to talk to her. But she remained silent, unable to allow herself an inkling of something she craved. 

She was beginning to realise she was more to blame for their current pain. She just didn’t want to talk about why. Not yet. 

Sitting in her office, Claire went through the schedule for the next month, noting the important dates and the possible influx of visitors when she spotted something odd. Going over her own schedules and meetings for the day, she noticed the absence at this time for the velociraptor crew. Claire went over everything again. They’re moving the raptors next week, they need a meeting that day to finalise the move before everything goes ahead. Yet, the boys weren’t at her office or even seemed to be coming. 

Walking to Zara’s desk, Claire leaned against the doorframe. “Wasn’t I supposed to meet with Owen or Barry this morning?” Claire asked, chewing on the inside of her lip, and Zara went over some notes, gasping as she realised the time and what she’d let slip through the cracks. 

“They called just a few minutes ago. They’ve had to cancel. Something came up and they wanted to finalise it,” she grimaced as she understood this may not have been for the best. 

“I need to meet with them today. It’s my last chance to get a face-to-face with them. Call them back and let them know I’m going down,” Claire said, going into her office and grabbing her phone, along her her coat, just in case.

“Claire, I think they’re busy,” Zara tried, but Claire needed this off her list. She wanted to make sure that the time she’d bought them had worked out in the groups favour. 

“And so am I. They’re meeting with me regardless. This way, it’ll be easier and they can go over everything themselves,” she said, putting the coat over her forearm and watching as Zara nodded, dialling the number and Claire walked over to the elevator. 

Claire got there in barely any time, but the area was so different than the last time she was there. When once there were vehicles, people rushing around and monitoring the expanse, now only remained a barren area of what it once was. There were still people around, but they were packing up most of the equipment, the paddock feeling smaller than what it used to. There was something so sad about leaving it. Claire remembered when she held Owen in the holding area, making sure she was his shield. Now, the memories in the land would vanish when the paddock would go unused. 

Stepping out of her car, she saw sight of Owen and Barry at the top of the walkway, pacing and pointing out things to one another. Claire took in a tight breath before walking up the staircase and standing at the end of the platform. It was Barry that noticed her first, looking at her and promptly smiling. He waved and walked off without saying a word to Owen. He was left confused until he turned to see her. He smiled, a warmth to it but nervous to walk to her. She took the initiative and walked to him instead. 

“Hi,” she said tentatively. 

“Hi,” he replied.

“Tell me how progress is going,” she asked, pushing the uneasy feeling down and away from this conversation. She could grin and bear it for one conversation. 

“The girls are following orders, could perform for some audiences like a regular Tilly the Orca,” he joked and Claire chuckled under her breath. She tucked hair behind her ear and shook her head. 

“How threatening.”

“They love to play rough, what can I say?” 

“If the scars have anything to say by it, I believe you,” she said, both walking slowly along the platform, watching as the girls had a play amongst themselves below. 

“Well, these aren’t from the girls, this is…” he started, then stopped himself from saying anything further. “Nevermind. Unrelated to work,” he cleared his throat, pushing his hands into his pockets. 

“Now you’ve got me curious,” she tried, if she could make things like they used to, it might be better -

“Navy days.” 

“Oh.” 

He cut her thoughts short and she felt trapped back into a dull and lifeless conversation like when they first started. She wanted more. She needed it. But she always forgot that she couldn’t just wish for depth without figuring herself out; what her next step could be in order for them to move forward. 

“Yeah, so the new pen looks up to shape. I’ve gone over the route with the drivers a few different times, to make sure it’s a smooth ride and that the girls won’t get riled up,” he explained, his plans so clear, it was as though he was following guidelines made by her without Claire saying a single word. “I’m considering doing it at night or early morning, to avoid crowds.” 

“Late afternoon or early morning. I want daylight on you all, at all time. This is still dangerous no matter if they’re caged,” she corrected quickly and Owen nodded, making his own notes quickly into his phone. 

“Okay, noted,” he said slowly as he typed. “I’ve gone over the safety guidelines and the fences, though I’m still going to ask about one of the fences and glass plating,” he went on and Claire’s brow furrowed, stopping short of their next step. Owen stopped alongside her. 

“What’s wrong with the fence and glass plating?” 

“I don’t think the glass is thick enough. We have four velociraptors in a cage. No matter how trained, they might react to something we’re unaware of and try to attack. If it isn’t thick enough to stop Rexy, I don’t want it,” he said firmly, making it clear to Claire what needed to be done. 

“What about the fences?” she asked next. 

“We have a mesh lined fences. They may be metal, but the girls have claws that grip into things and tear them apart. The minute they see prey, they’ll go for it. They’re not going to let metal get in their way.” All his issues were justified, even without the subtle hints of disasters. She could tell how serious a matter this was to him. 

“I’m going to make those two a priority,” she confirmed, correcting her notes on her phone and making sure she had the numbers of all of the safety team ready for phone calls. 

“That’s unnes-” 

“You’re moving the girls in a week. I need to know for sure that I can move them without any mistakes,” she said, scrolling through her contacts and making sure she had all the people. When she found she was missing a number, she immediately messaged Zara about it.

“Okay,” Owen said.

“Anything else?” 

“The resting area is fine, I haven’t seen anything to worry about, but I haven’t had the girls in there to make for-sure results,” he shrugged, waiting calmly for her reply.

“When you do your testing, please call me straight away. If there is a problem, I need to contact the necessary people,” she told him, and the scoff on his breath spoke volumes; he knew if he didn’t, he’d be a dead man. 

“I can if it’s too much trouble,” he tried to be helpful anyway, knowing he was out of his league. She wondered if that was the same case with them. 

“Operations director. I’ve got it,” she couldn’t help but smile when Owen did. 

“I think that’s it, for now,” he confirmed, walking them both back down to her car, their stroll lingering with conversations they wished they could have, but were restricted to just work. 

“Okay, if you think of anything else and that list you already have, send it to Zara and I’ll take a look over it,” Claire tried to say anything. She wanted more time with him, to spend a few more minutes around him in order to figure out what she could say to save what they could have. 

“No problem,” Owen said just as they reached her car. “I’ll uh...see you tonight,” he said nervously.

“Right,” she said and a shiver ran over her, scared of the possibilities of what their dreams could be that night. “I’ve gotta go,” she said and Owen nodded, heading back to the paddock, though she saw him glance over his shoulder more than once. Claire knew he was thinking about her, about the same thing she was; when would the pain end? She wanted an answer, but only she and Owen could fix this, no outward force would tell them. 

When she found herself in her dreams that night, something was stranger than before; the colours were sparkling, richer and no longer colliding to create the browns and black. Instead, the colours were interwoven, calmer yet still not quite mixing. Something felt off, but almost perfect, like how it once felt when they had not known each other. 

Owen came beside her, leading them on a path with no words passing between them. Silence walked among them, weaving in between them and forcing itself to maintain a balance that neither one of them wanted. There was something bothering him that night; an uneasiness occupied his hands. He kept moving them from his pockets to his face and back again. Claire said nothing, making sure that if he did speak, she wasn’t going to interrupt. 

There was a sudden halt in his movements and Claire stopped alongside him. He stared down at her, looking at her with anguish in his eyes. It was different than other times he’d looked at her, that he was in more pain that he could bear to feel. Claire bit at her lip, waiting for Owen, and before she could venture forward to him, he sighed heavily, aggravated. 

“I am so tired, Claire,” he groaned, covering his face.

Claire laughed a little, trying to see if she could lighten the mood that was now palpable. “You’re dreaming, I think -” 

“Of this! Of how I feel!” he said, voice raised and sky erupting into a lightning strikes. Claire recoiled, the change unexpected in terms of her surroundings. She didn’t expect the sky to be so violent or to have him control it so suddenly. Claire wasn’t frightened of him or how he was reacting, she could never be; but what she was scared of was that he had built up so much pain. 

“Hey, I’m just -” 

“Do you know how much I want to be with you? But I can’t now because of what I did. You’re here every night and every time you’re in reach but I know I can’t even go near you until you’re ready,” he said, his voice breaking as he let his pain get the better of him. 

“Owen. I get it, I do,” she tried but he gritted his teeth and sighed, his hands on his hips as he continued on. 

“I want to be able to hold you in public. To kiss you without you being shocked or confused. I just want to make you happy,” he practically begged. 

“You do make me happy, Owen. But this is a horrible circumstance that we both put ourselves in and we can’t go back to that time,” Claire replied, combing her fingers through her hair. 

“Why can’t we?” 

“You know exactly why!” she yelled back, this time, the sky slammed with thunder and sparked with lightning. “Owen, life isn’t going to sort out our mess, we have to do that,” she said more calmly, but she felt the shake in her hand. 

“I want to sort it out but you won’t talk to me,” he groaned, his hands bound before he scoffed. “You barely say anything to me and when you do, it’s never about what we need to really talk about. You’re avoiding me like a fucking plague and I can’t take it,” he retorted and the gut wrenching feeling of guilt pooled in her belly. 

“I don’t mean for it to be that way, I just have stuff to sort through,” she explained, sighing softly as she tried to keep her hands from shaking too much. 

“I don’t know how to do this, how to want you without wanting you,” he choked out, voice barely above a whisper. Owen had never sounded so broken, defeated against his own heart. He breathed harshly and eyes clouded with the forming of tears. 

“I-I don’t understand,” she stuttered. 

“I’m dying here. I stopped dreaming with you, I’ve stopped trying to see you, and all the while I can’t help but think what it must really feel like to kiss your lips or to have you fall apart underneath me, to touch you without hiding in dreams!” he exclaimed and Claire felt herself growing weak. All because she felt it too, she wanted everything that he did, it just didn’t feel right yet. When once it felt perfect, there something still lying between them that hadn’t been made right. 

“Stop!” she yelled, and Owen looked at her, eyes turning from sadness to shame. Owen stumbled back, taking a seat on the side of the pavement and resting his head in his hands. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking as his shoulder shook. Claire let out an uneasy breath before going to his side, sitting beside him.

“Shh,” she comforted, resting her head on his shoulder as she held him. And for the moment, when she touched him and had him in her embrace, everything felt perfect. There was a peace that settled on them, bringing serenity to something that felt so broken. It felt right, a puzzle that was unsolved finally finding its missing piece. 

“Claire,” Owen sniffed, raising his head to look at her. Claire raised her hand from around his back to the crook of his neck, sliding tender fingers over his skin to make his breathing falter. “I…” his words trailed off, forehead resting to her own, noses tempting against each other. If she just moved up, she could - 

The buzzing of her alarm interrupted her sleep, jolting her awake and physically clutching at her sheets. In her daze, she stared down the clock until it focused, and Claire huffed at the machine. “I hate you,” she cursed to her alarm clock. 

Putting on her dress for the day, Claire began fixing up her hair, deciding whether to leave it up or down, she felt something pressing into her chest. It felt physical, but she knew it was something more. It was a pressure that needed its release, and she finally knew what she needed. Tossing her hair up into a loose ponytail, she got into her car, calling Zara on her way to let her know she’d be a little late to the office that morning. 

At the raptor paddock, there were only a few members of staff around. Taking a look around, Claire couldn’t see him and she became nervous. Chewing on her lip, she kept searching until she found that Owen was in the pen with the caged up raptors, stroking at their faces and smiling fondly. 

“Owen, you’ve got a visitor,” said a voice from upon. Claire looked up to see a smiling Barry waving down at her. She chuckled, shaking her head and returning her attention back to Owen. He was staring at her, stunned into stillness. Claire pursed her lips, waiting for anything and Owen finally moved, wiping his hands on a cloth as he raced over to her. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked softly. 

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” Claire blurted out, trying to stop the aching that had persisted all morning. Owen looked at her, blinking as though to see if this were reality or not. 

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, his hand on the back of his neck as he answered. “Um, tomorrow night?” he asked cautiously, as though he feared she’d say otherwise. “I’ve just got some work to finish with the raptors,” he explained quickly and Claire nodded. 

“Good. Tomorrow is good,” she replied, smiling nervously but when she let out the chuckle that bubbled in her chest, it felt right to smile again. The aching that was pressuring her chest faded, only a dull pain held her, reminding her that it wasn’t over until she could talk, until she told him everything 

Her day flew by, with meetings and scheduled appointments, emails and paperwork piling up that would keep piling up until everything was in order again. Claire didn’t mind it, it kept her attention focused, not dwelling on the ever growing fear that she only felt once leaving for the day. She had gone all these hours ignoring it, setting it aside for other things, and when the day at work had come to its end, she was left with nothing but that feeling. 

She tried to sleep, tossing and rolling over in her bed for what felt like an eternity. She was trying her hardest to find the relief that she wanted, but the idea of going back there, after everything, after nothing had happened but things were different - she didn’t want it. There was no refuge in her dreams, and there wouldn’t be any comfort in them that night until she told him. 

_ I have to tell him. I can’t keep doing this to us. Why do I always cause more problems? I can’t be in this room anymore.  _

She thought everything a mile a minute before putting on a sweatshirt and some shorts and wandered around the personnel area. There was a common building with living room spaces and a communal kitchen and dining area. But it wasn’t what Claire was looking for. She went to the roof, knowing most employees came there during working hours to smoke. Though she wasn’t there to smoke, she sat on the ground against a wall, watching up at the sky that blinked with stars. 

She was there for god knows how long before the door to the roof swung open violently, a ragged breathing man stood, glancing around as he scanned the roof. As Claire peered around, she couldn’t help but smile. “How did you know I’d be here?” she said, spooking the shocked Owen into turning around to her. He let out a sigh before walking over to her. 

“I couldn’t find you in the dream, and you always liked watching the stars,” he explained, and as he looked at her, he smiled wide. “Plus I asked around,” he smirked and Claire laughed, leaning back against the wall and Owen sat down beside her. 

“I used to be able to know every constellation,” she said with a soft voice. There was a sadness to her voice that she couldn’t hide and Owen heard it no doubt. 

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head as he looked at her. 

“I couldn’t take another dream where I was ruining everything,” she confessed, chewing on the inside of her lip and looked back at the stars. 

“Claire, this hasn’t been easy. And we haven’t exactly given each other a lot of access. I realise I haven’t been helpful to everything that’s going on,” he said, sympathy and an apology all rolled into one sentence. 

“When you were twenty-three, and you first saw me, what did you think?” she asked suddenly, and Owen recoiled at the question. She looked at him, seeing how stunned he was to be asked rather than the question itself. 

“I thought…” he stopped himself, “it feels weird to talk to you about it,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Would you rather be in a dream?” she asked.

“No.”

“Tell me.” 

Owen took in a deep breath, turning his attention to the sky, as though he was embarrassed to confess things so openly. “I thought that if I had to die the next day, it would be worth it just to see your face that night,” he said, all in one go without hesitation. Claire sucked in a breath silently, hoping he didn’t realise how it had affected her. “Sappy, I know,” he chuckled, turning back to her. Claire smiled in response. 

“What about when you met me?” 

“I thought you were going to realise it was me. But you didn’t,” he said. When he noticed Claire going tight-lipped and avoided looking at him, he placed a hand on her knee, squeezing it softly. “And that’s okay. I just thought we got lucky.”

“I think I know what’s wrong with me,” she started, letting out a trembling breath, hoping her lip would stop quivering. 

“Yeah?” 

“My therapist thinks it’s an underlying insecurity. About Karen,” she said, turning to him as her heart was pounding, and stomach curling into tight knots. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It was easier to lose you if I couldn’t see you,” she said, swallowing the fear that had ruled her for so many years. “The only reason I could see you in those dreams was because I was forming a bond outside of the dream, better than just small bickering.” 

“But you didn’t connect the two,” he continued for her. 

“She said that soulmate dreaming was complicated. In my mind you were still two different people and different circumstances. I could see you when we were naked and bare. But as soon as you wanted to see me, I closed you off,” she elaborated before the shaking of her lips became too much and the tears started to form with quick succession of each other. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, trying to bite at her lip to stop from the crying sensation she could feel building. 

“What are you talking about?” Owen asked, his hand on her shoulder as Claire couldn’t help but sob. 

“It took me ten years to realise that you weren’t going anywhere, and you had to wait so long for me to get out of my own head,” she cried, sobbing louder and without restraint. The aching in her chest was easing, but it needed this; it needed everything to be open and free. And she needed to cry. She needed just a few moments to herself to realise things had fallen apart but she was going to be okay. She just needed to cry first. 

“It’s okay,” Owen soothed, bringing her into his embrace, tucking her head below his chin and holding her as she cried. “Hey, shh, it’s fine. I’ve got you,” he said over and over again. And from that moment on, she knew he did have her. And he really wasn’t going anywhere. The world would have hell to pay if it did. His tight hold and soothing hand on the back of her neck hold her exactly that. 


	9. You’re a Dream To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I KNOW! THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO UPDATE! But life got in the way and I was unable to complete this fic at the time when I wanted. That being said. 13K WORDS LATER, I'M BACK! AHHHH! I hope you enjoy, as always, thanks to my beta Clare for taking the time and reading this. (I'm sorry I got excited so you couldn't beta the second half of this.)

There had been times where Claire would sit in her office, fretting from one thing to the next, always fixated on a task she could, to avoid those thoughts. And now? Well, now it was easier. She walked as if there was air under her heels, a little hop in her step and a giddiness in her that she couldn’t quite describe. She felt weightless and grounded, her mind no longer a fractured mess. Claire felt  _ light _ . She had been through enough, weighed herself down to a point of breaking. Owen helped her unload it from her shoulders, and held her as the pain eased. It was all he could do at the time. 

It had been about two weeks since her breakdown, she was going to see her therapist, even talking to Karen - always maintaining that Karen was never to blame for Claire’s issues. Owen always came in her dreams, setting up elaborate evenings. Once, he had set up a scavenger hunt. She wasn’t sure how he did it; there must have been so much planning for him to construct a new location and keep each item in place to find. At the end of it, he gave her a beautiful necklace; a silver chain with a small green gem as its pendant. Later that morning, it was sitting on her desk in her office. 

The gifts and the fun evenings didn’t have anything hanging over them. Despite the constant contact, each date felt effortless; like someone had cut the strings that were holding them back. Untethered, their interactions flowed naturally - so much easier than they’d ever been before. Every day they’d text or call, and every night they’d meet in their dreams and never before had she been so eager for the passing of the day. 

So, they found a rhythm, a dance they had once fallen out of step with. But they were listening to the music this time, starting off slow and speeding themselves up when they wanted to. They had stayed friendly, trying to work themselves to the romance once more. For Claire, it never really left; just diverted. 

In her wrap dress, decorated in a bright pink floral print, Claire felt lighter than most days. She had collected her reports, readying herself for her trip down. The raptors had been transferred the week before, seemingly settling in well, but Claire still needed to check in. As she came to the enclosure, she found Barry and Owen both dressed to impress in their Jurassic World attire. Although they both hated the other employees outfits, they asked for modifications on the downlow. It was the least Claire could do. They had to wear the t-shirt, but could wear vests and whatever pants they saw fit, as long as they adhered to workplace safety rules. And that’s exactly what they did; a darker blue shirt than other employees, leather vest with their jeans and knives on their hips. 

Owen fixed up his hair again before seeing her. No matter how many times he’d seen her, he always had a way of lighting up like a fireworks display when she approached. Claire took in a sharp breath, telling herself to stop blushing. Of all the employees that knew about Owen and Claire officially, were Zara and Barry. Barry shook his head with a smile on his face, patting Owen’s back and wandering off to check on the girls. 

“You guys excited?” Claire asked, pulling loose hair behind her ear. 

“Nervous, actually,” Owen chuckled, adjusting his shoulder.

“They haven’t been in front of a crowd before, you have a right to be nervous,” Claire shrugged, chewing on the inside of her lip, thinking it was possibly the wrong thing to say. 

“Did you get all your work done?” Owen said, stepping closer as he seemed to examine what she had on her. With her hands with a few materials, she was ready for any questions to go over.

“Yes, got it all done, I’m here to watch you work,” she smiled, raising the papers. 

“Now I’m just...rolling in nerves,” he joked, but the shift in his shoulders told her there was still a small truth to his words. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Claire said, rubbing his arm. There was a closeness that had occured; familiar and warm, but it was a pressing awareness to it. Claire felt nervous, as though she was young and wanting her first kiss to be as perfect as the movies made it out to be. 

Owen swallowed hard, eyes darting over her face to see if she would falter or pull away. She gave a soft smile, letting out a nervous breath, not letting distance between them; Claire didn’t want to pull away, she wanted to stay. “We’re still on for tonight, right?” he asked, a small crack in his voice, which made him clear his throat. Owen was referring to their date; arranged after one of their dreams had gone really well, and they wanted to celebrate finally moving on from the awkward stuff. They wanted reality.

“Of course,” she said, nodding lightly in response. 

Owen began rambling, his hand on the back of his neck. It was clear that he thought she was unsure. “I mean, are you completely sure? Not that I’m saying I don’t want to, I just don’t want to -” Claire interrupted it quickly, kissing his cheek. 

“I’m sure, Owen,” she said, watching as his cheeks began rising in a shade of pink that she hadn’t seen in person before, “now go make sure you impress,” she smirked and Owen chuckled, his head falling forward. He leaned in fast - faster than she could take in - because his lips touched against her forehead and he smiled at her before moving off to his station; his show was about to begin. Owen turned once, calling out once more. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” he asked. Claire laughed loudly, covering up the snort that emerged with her hand.

“Yes! Now go!” she yelled back, shoo-ing him off. His smile was wide enough that she could see it sparkling from a distance and he went to find Barry. Claire went to the main area and met with some investors, speaking with them amongst the crowds’ excitement. 

The first showing of the raptors went amazing; the turn out probably one of the best turnouts in the park’s history. The investors were impressed without too many questions, and just small discussions amongst themselves. When it was over, the boys wrangled the girls, pushing them back to the cages and allowing them to eat the treats that they had set aside. The investors thanked Claire and arranged a meeting with the handlers to get a better grasp on the kind of things they wanted to show in the exhibition. It was something that Claire thought they were going to do, warning the boys well in advance to show minimal stuff to impress investors when they see the showing for a second time. It helped keep them interested and invested. 

Claire’s day was a solid and well scheduled one; she had planned out her notes, managed to talk with other exhibits to discuss their numbers and any problems that handlers were having with any dinosaurs; some worried that their animals were getting sick or possibly outgrowing their current exhibits, meaning more baby dinosaurs on the way. Claire made sure to get Zara to notify Doctor Wu by the end of the day. After all her meetings and notes for the day were handled, Claire was free.

Back at her room, Claire waded through her wardrobe, picking anything that could be remotely good for a date. Well, what date outfit could say “hey, I didn’t realise we were soulmates and it’s been complicated for a few weeks since knowing but i’m ready to get on with our lives and go on a date”...it’s a lot to ask from an outfit. In the back, she found a midi dress, a dark forest green that complimented her skin and hair nicely. It had a v-neck neckline, revealing just enough, as the circle skirt that let the fabric fall in folds around her thighs and knees. She could work with this.

Pining up her hair loosely, letting stray curls fall around her face, she arranged her makeup in a sweet simple way as to not overwhelm herself. If she made this more of a big deal than it was, she’d get far more nervous than their first date. She wanted this to feel normal. It was their first date after everything was out in the open. Pairing her dress with a some silver strapped heels, she was ready to go. 

It took a lot for Claire to walk down to the main area of the park, finding herself contemplating staying; but she didn’t want to keep running. Everything about them felt like she was pulling away. Her therapist told her not to be scared of the unknown and embrace it. She wanted to do that. More than anything, she wanted to embrace everything that frightened her. But revealing herself to someone was hard; she was used to it with Owen, but strings felt like they had tightened on her once more. 

The hell with it. To hell with fear and the unknown; she was better than all of that. She could be Claire Dearing and still be in love. When she started walking down the street, Claire found Owen walking towards her, fixing up the cuff of his shirt and not paying very close attention to where he was going. When he finally looked up, he stopped dead in his tracks. He did it every time; lightning had struck down on him and he was in awe. She didn’t deserve those wonder-filled eyes; but felt blessed to receive them anyway. Smiling, she took a few more steps to be in line with him. 

“You look amazing,” she complimented, and when he hooked his arm with hers, Claire felt the shift once more. What she had mistaken for fear and nerves was anticipation, the feeling so alike, but different reasons for making her blood pump harder. She was able to relax into his touch, walk slowly with him to the restaurant and just talk to him in a way that she had missed. 

“I don’t know how, but you’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he complimented and Claire scoffed. 

“You saw me a few hours ago,” she reminded and Owen nodded, shrugging in awe of it. 

“I know, that’s what makes it so unbelievable,” he regarded, and it made Claire giggle. He was goofy as ever; the worries from hours before were gone. It made her feel...wanted. 

“You are...funny,” she said, trying to stop herself from sighing blissfully. She was getting close to it more and more these days. 

“I try my best, it does come more naturally to some than others,” Owen said as they reached the doors to the restaurant. He pushed it open and let go of Claire’s arm. 

“If that was a jab at my shitty jokes, I don’t appreciate it,” she threatened with a warning finger. Owen lifted his arms in defense.

“Never,” he said, an ever present smirk on his lips as he eyed her down. Claire chuckled before they were escorted to their table. They sat down and ordered a wine and beer; wine for Claire and beer for Owen. When their drinks were brought and their menus set in front of them, Claire sipped at the red wine in her glass. 

“So, how do you think you went today?” she asked. Owen looked up at her, a raise in his brow quizzically. 

“Is this a formal evaluation?” he asked, almost a joke, but still not quite sure if he was joking himself. 

“No, of course not. I’m asking you how your day was,” she smiled and Owen folded the menu shut. 

“In that case, I think it went fine,” he shrugged. 

“Not great?” 

“Well, I think Barry and I were a little worried. The girls had never been in front of so many people before and we’re in the enclosure with them. If they were gonna lash out at anyone, it would be either of us,” he explained.

“So you didn’t really get to enjoy it?” Claire asked, setting her own menu aside. 

“I think we could next time,” he sighed, “but right now I’m still getting used to it myself.” 

“From your boss’ point of view, I say you’re doing well, especially with investors, as your girlfriend, I say you’re drawing in crowds and entertaining people with what you’ve done. You should be proud of what you’ve done, Owen,” she said, sipping at her wine again. 

“Girlfriend?” Owen asked. Claire licked at her lips, chasing the wine to see if she could find the words. 

“Well, what else would I be?” she asked. Owen shrugged. 

“I mean, we’re soulmates, right? Shouldn’t that mean we’re more than just….girlfriend and boyfriend?” 

“What, you want to jump right to husband?” Owen scoffed, sipping at his beer.

“Cool it, Red. This is only the first date,” he smirked. Claire let out a squeaking laugh, one that she hadn’t expected. 

“Don’t make me laugh,” she said in the midst of her shallow breaths. 

“Oh, come on, I like your laugh,” he said with a wink. 

“You’re the only one,” she reminded him. 

“Good.” 

Claire covered her laugh with her hand, watching Owen grin at her over his beer glass and start to look at his menu. When her laughter was gone, she found herself staring at Owen, finding joy in how beautiful he was; how he must feel looking at her every day. Claire could appreciate him more, love him harder than she thought she could, she just needed to be ready for it. It was moments like this that she realised how alone she felt, and now - with Owen - he made her feel present, in the moment. 

She was a fool in love and she was happily foolish. 

They ordered their food, talked about family, catching up on the gossip that they had missed; Claire heard that Karen had filed for divorce, and had even started dating someone new. They had gone through similar things, very sudden deaths, never really got to meet their soulmate. It seemed to be working out better for Karen that way. Owen talked about his mother, how she took the news of his soulmate and the embarrassed flush of his cheeks when he mentioned his mother’s request for kids. 

“I mean, we can talk about it later, I think it’s still pretty...fresh,” Claire joked. Owen nodded, but the flush in his cheeks were still burning red. 

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Owen said, taking another drink from his beer. 

“Well, over Christmas, I’ll have to meet her,” Claire suggested and Owen groaned.

“Oh, god, really?” he asked, his brow raised. Rolling his eyes, he leant forward. “I mean, I love my mom, but she’s gonna say embarrassing stuff about my childhood and -” 

Claire leant forward quickly. “Is she finally going to tell me how you got that scar on your chin that you refuse to tell me about?” she smirked, raising her brow in playful competition. Owen scoffed, his tongue poking into his cheek.

“I fell, that’s it,” he said, pointing his finger at her. He leaned back into his chair, and so did Claire. 

“Sure. What will Miriam say about it?” she said, challenging him again. Owen was trying hard not to smile, but Claire could see past it. 

“She and I have a very different recollection on that date.” 

“Now I’m dying to meet her,” Claire giggled, taking some bites at her food.

“She’ll be thrilled to hear it,” Owen said happily in return. Over small forkfuls of food and rims of glasses, eyes caught eyes, looks exchanged in some flirting way that made Claire eager and wonder struck in one. She wondered how many times she’d feel that with Owen or would it be a constant between them. 

When their dinner was finished, and their drinks gone, they walked back to Claire’s lodgings. Owen wanted to walk with Claire this time, let them have just the smallest bit of time together. They took slow steps, barely even getting anywhere. They wanted to get nowhere, fast. Claire shivered slightly at the cool breeze that rolled in, and Owen took off his coat, hanging it over her shoulders. 

“Tonight was fun,” Owen said, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I know. Reminded me of old times,” she replied. 

“Young and dreaming of when we’d meet,” Owen laughed, ducking his head slightly before raising it to the sky, looking upwards with a delighted smile on his face. 

“No,” Claire said, clearing her throat. “I meant, when we first went on our date. Our first one.” 

“Ah,” Owen muttered, stopped dead in his tracks. It was clear that something had gone wrong, that she said something she shouldn’t have. It dawned on her that she may not have been clear; that he thought she meant there was a lack in wanting because it felt like their date in person. 

Claire walked back to Owen, standing in front of him and holding onto his wrist. “Owen,” she started, “don’t take it the wrong way,” she tried but he was already shaking his head.

“You don’t have to explain,” he tried, but Claire didn’t listen. 

“Owen,” she started again, placing her hand from his wrist on his cheek. “I don’t want you thinking I’m stuck in dreams liking how we are,” she reassured, placing her other hand on his opposite cheek, “our dreams were special to me and they still are. But you’re right in front of me, and I like that a hell of a lot more. I don’t love you because you’re my soulmate,” she said. Claire sighed, looking at Owen’s eyes and watching as the stars seemed to flicker inside them. It felt so easy now. “I love you because you’re you,” she said. 

There was silence between them for a moment, both unable to speak. Until, it became clear that speaking was unnecessary. Owen surged forward, kissing her sparkly and without restraint. Claire’s hands fell from his cheeks, landing on his chest as he makes her off balance, pushing himself to her more. Claire stumbles enough to unlink their lips, but Owen remains close, his hands on her hips to try and steady her. 

“Sorry, I -” Claire reached, taking hold of his collar. She’d done it so many times in her dreams, reality had nothing on her trained hands. She pulled him in once more, rising as high as she could to lean into him. Owen’s arms wrapped around her waist, tugging her in tightly to his body, pressing her to him like he never wanted to let her go. It felt different to their kisses in dreams; in that make-believe space, it felt real, but like a memory of it. It was once present, and could be one day, but it wasn’t something she could hold onto for too long. Reality had this way of forcing their lips together, sparking needs that thrived within them and didn’t let them die down. Claire was coming to the conclusion that reality had more perks than dreams. Pulling back, Claire breathed hard. 

“Who told you to stop?” she said, smiling and chuckling as his own grin formed. Their foreheads rested against each other, breathing the same air to let their moment last. 

“I will never be able to get over you,” he muttered, tightening his arms around her waist.

“Good,” she replied in the same whisper. They walked even slower to her apartment, their moment together felt so short, but they knew prolonging the evening to a sexual encounter may jeopardise something that still felt uneasy. They needed to take things slower; even if they were ten years into a relationship. 

At her apartment, Claire gave back Owen’s jacket, even though he didn’t seem to want it back. Claire stole a kiss before falling back into her home, letting Owen walk away, still trying to let his hands wander on her. They slipped from each other’s grasp, wishing the time could go on, but knowing it shouldn’t; they had more to do the next day, they didn’t need anymore distractions. Instead, they watched each other leave, waiting for the other to go until finally, Claire shut her door because she knew Owen wouldn’t leave until he knew she was safely inside. 

Going to sleep felt easy and unsettling; her heart was racing and her mind kept drifting to the kiss that seemed to last days. She didn’t want to sleep because it felt like losing her moment, but she could continue it all in her dream; he’d be right there. Taking to sleep a little harder than usual, Claire still found herself in the same familiar setting, streets upon streets in a city of their making. They stood at opposite ends of the street, but Claire noticed Owen straight away, wearing the same thing he wore on their date.

“We’re still dressed up,” Owen shouted, and Claire looked down, seeing the green dress that fitted to her form. She twirled around a little before looking back at him.

“I guess we are,” she shouted back with a shrug. Then, Owen stepped forward.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing his finger towards him, continuing on his pursuit. 

“Why?” she asked back, and each time he stepped forward, she stepped back, knowing the game she was playing at. 

“Don’t make me chase you,” he warned but Claire hid the urge to giggle. 

“We’re not in our twenties anymore,” she reminded him. 

“I know that walk,” he said, pointing down at her feet as she started to gain speed with the way she walked backwards, “don’t….don’t you dare -” he stopped talking when Claire bolted, racing down the street as fast as she could in her heels. “Hey!” he shouted.

“I’m in heels! I get a head start!” she shouted back, giggling as she saw over her shoulder that Owen was already chasing her. 

They had done this so many times before; chasing each other like drunk teenagers and playing like they were still young and naive. They enjoyed their time away from reality because they weren’t with each other. Now, the joy radiated through them and seeped into every crack of their dreams. 

Claire picked up the bottom of her skirt, sprinting along the street and failing to slow down for corners, almost tripping every time. She knew, however, that Owen wasn’t prepared for the sharp turns either. Hearing him gaining, Claire thought she may ditch her heels, but it wasn’t going to do her much good; he’d catch up by the time she took the off. When she rounded a corner far too fast, she almost tripped, being caught at her hip by Owen, who hoisted her up and onto his shoulder. 

“Stop it!” she called out as his fingers started to squirm on her body, tickling her like he had done many times before. “Put me down!” she demanded, and Owen let her back on her feet, but never allowing them to have much distance between them. 

God, those eyes could stare into her like they were undressing her inch by inch. She hated that she could never resist those eyes. green and deep with desire. She wondered if she had a look about her that made Owen weak and desperate; that he couldn’t resist her when she did the one little thing. It was infuriating that she couldn’t find out; all she could do was fall for the eyes that burned hot into her, steaming her boyd until she could no longer take it. 

Claire pounced up on her toes, taking his lips as hard as she could and began stripping him of his jacket. It was getting in the way. “You can just ask me to take it off,” Owen muttered against her lips, laughing, but still wanting to kiss her just as much as she wanted to kiss him. 

“No fun in that,” Claire breathed, pulling Owen back into the kiss. Owen replied to her greedy hands unbuttoning his shirt, by letting his hands roam straight up her thighs, gathering up the material of her dress. 

“I hate this dress…” he groaned, the sound shocking her chest until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She whimpered her reply. 

“Really?” 

“I hate that it’s covering you,” he said, chuckling to himself as his hand soothed out around her ass, the large width of his palm spreading on each cheek like he owned them. 

“Real funny,” Claire said, not very much paying attention when she finally got his shirt loose, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. 

“I love it, but I want you more,” he said, voice like gravel and straining out. One of his hands had snaked up the back of her dress, unclasping her bra and allowing the sleeve of her dress to slip from her shoulder. 

Jumping up into Owen arms, Claire kissed Owen fiercely, gaining leverage over him, allowing her to grip into his hair and have his hands do the rest of the work. He worked her underwear to the side as he kissed down her neck and onto her collar. As he was stroking himself, letting his shaft get hard, he pushed himself into Claire, catching her off guard and making her gasp loudly. She rotated her hips, gaining the perfect advantage over him to have him whimper and groan at her touch.

“Sorry I didn’t get to do this in person,” he breathed, and Claire’s back arched, unable to keep up her pace, because her mind shifted gears. Something was wrong but she wasn’t quite sure why what he said bothered her. “You okay?” he asked just before she settled back into her rhythm. 

“Just forgot what it’s like to be touched by you,” she said with a shaky breath, trying to circle her hips over him, but he gripped hard into her ass, pushing her back against the wall hard, and thrusting into her with a desperate need. “Oh god,” she called out. Owen was relentless. He wanted her more than she wanted him, which she thought was impossible. 

Owen reached around the back of her dress, steady thrusts to maintain his presence within her. The pleasure of it was not entirely overwhelming, but it was enough to have her hands on the back of his neck, staring down at his intense eyes as he drove himself home. Claire panted, feelings his hands skirt over the zip of her dress, dragging it down as slowly as his thrusts and it was infuriating. Because all she wanted was for Owen to be rough with her, take her like so many times before and just make her feel completely spent. 

When her dress finally slipped from her shoulder, Owen’s mouth trailed kisses down her neck and chest before his mouth latched onto her breast. Pushing Claire right up against the building, her fingers tried to find purchase into the wall, as Owen’s thrusts became deeper and faster in pace. His mouth seemed to be enjoying its journey as well; tongue swirling and teeth nipping at her skin whenever he wanted. Claire arched into the sensation, Owen’s hand tightening around her ass, and Claire felt on edge of something beautiful; but the wall behind her provided no comfort or allowed her room for it.

“I don’t think the wall is going to take much more,” Claire breathed, her back being pushed against the wall once more with a hard thrust. Claire gasped, gripping tight into Owen’s hair. 

“The wall or you?” Owen grinned, groaning as he pushed into her again. 

“Both,” Claire cried. Her hands fought the urge to pull in his hair, tear at the wall, even the temptation to catch Owen’s arm and drag her nails down him was alluring but she couldn’t bring herself to think straight. 

Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, Owen latched his lips to hers, one hand still bound to her ass and the other tangled up in her hair as he kissed her hard. Claire moaned against his mouth and her orgasm broke. breaking the kiss, Claire’s head fell back, crying out a little just as she felt her back no longer rubbing into the stone of a wall, and instead, comfort in fresh sheets that stretched on for as long as their imaginations could last. 

“Wasn’t going to make you suffer forever,” Owen muttered against her neck. Slipping from inside her, Claire whimpered, the loss of him was disheartening. “Don’t get sad on me, baby. I’m just getting started. But I’m not wearing this the whole time, and I desperately want to see you,” he smiled, stripping himself out of all his clothes and Claire chuckled, pulling her dress off and slipping out of her underwear. When she was done, she was back, lying on her back, hair a mess underneath her, but Owen seemed to love the sight of her, watching her with eyes that could never drift to anyone else. 

“Are you going to make me wait now?” Claire asked, rising up on her elbow. Owen shook his head, crawling up the bed to her, kissing her as softly as he had done in person and it made Claire feel weaker than ever; something so precious, that if he applied anymore pressure, he’d break her and himself all in one simple kiss. 

Positioning himself once more, it was slow, a wanting stroke that had them both clutching onto the other. They found a pace that was slow, tempting and teasing one another, just trying to see who would want more first. In the end, it was Claire. She hated herself for it, the way she bucked a little too eagerly when he was meeting her body and the painful whimpers whenever he would almost slip from inside her. 

After that point, it was no longer a battle for who would last, it was far more equal, Owen making sure she reached her climax when he needed to be at his end. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t exactly delicate; pushing himself to meet her, gripping hard into her hip to drag out the strides that much more. For their bodies, it was natural and inevitable how they would end. Claire would be panting out his name, Owen’s fingers would clutch deeper into her skin, trying his hardest to stop his moans from emerging before it became impossible.  

Claire broke first, calling out his name, clutching into his shoulder with nails that buried into his back. Owen buckled, a pleasurable pain that spurred him on. Legs locked around his thighs, Claire let herself ride out the rolling waves of her orgasm, moving in time with Owen’s strokes to let the fires burn within him. Finally, he cried out, his face buried into her shoulder as his teeth nipped at her skin with his hissing pleasure. She felt how he filled her, warmth radiating through her, making her moan at the feeling. 

Shaking above her, trying not to lean his weight too much into her, Claire soothed that feeling, running delicate hands through his hair, letting him rest on top of her. Kissing along her shoulder, Owen’s arms curled around her, tugging them together as he never wanted to leave her, even as he slipped from inside her. As he fell to the side of her, still embracing her, Claire couldn’t help but feel warm, protected,  _ loved _ . 

This dream felt like it lasted longer than others, and Claire loved it. She could lie beside him and want to know what he’s thinking as he smiled and looked fondly on her. They didn’t talk for some time, still trying to remain any strength that they possessed before they took everything from each other. Hands, slightly cold and trembling, snaked up her ribs and making her shake out a breath, until it reached her cheek. Owen looked at her like he was still witnessing a miracle and Claire’s heart ached. 

“I love you,” he whispered. Claire smiled, her heart hammering out a beat that made her scared that he could hear it.

“Why would you go and do something like that?” she asked, the tremble in her voice noticeable, though she feared it would be used against her. Instead, Owen leaned forward, kissing her nose.

“Universe made me do it,” he said, and Claire scoffed, her hand on the side of his neck. 

“Is that right?” she smiled a little wider now. As she stared at Owen, her chest tightened, the green in his eyes making her a little more open and tender. “I don’t think soulmates exist,” she whispered.

“What makes you say that? When you’re literally soulmate dreaming right now,” Owen laughed, leaning his forehead against hers.

“What if...the universe is just trying to guide you to someone. Someone that’s going to change you. Falling in love is just a byproduct,” she said, swallowing the fear that felt like it was rising. What if she was saying everything wrong; what if, for once in her life, she wasn’t being clear. 

“Why do you say that?” he asked, thumb caressing her cheek. 

“Because I don’t want the only reason I’m in love with you is because the universe told me I had to. I wanted to, and I did it so easily with you,” she confessed. Owen cracked a smile, wide and glorious, a light of joy that made her weak.

“I love you,” he replied. Claire leaned forward towards him, chasing his words and planting a kiss to his lips. She craved him and craved those lips whenever he said those words.

“I love you too,” she said with a full and honest heart. 

Claire woke to her alarm, but not in an abrupt and displeasing way she was used to when she had dreams. Instead, it felt like she was lulled into lucidity, waking as the alarm began amping up, and she was woken easily and safely. She got ready for her day, dressed in a pressed suit and tying her hair up, complimenting it all with subtle make-up. The meeting with both the raptor team and the investors needed to go as well as she had hoped. 

Getting a quick breakfast, Claire went down to the new raptor paddock. She saw the boys dressed in their best, uniforms to the nines, and a little less nervous; maybe investors didn’t make them as nervous as normal people. Either way, Claire raced over, Barry handing her some last minute notes she expected to get. She looked through all of them, and nodding to Barry as she made notes in her hand outs. When she looked over over, all they did was smile at each other, somewhat nervously. 

“Get a room,” Barry laughed, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“Barry,” Owen said under his breath. 

“You guys have more important things to worry about than that,” Claire said, smiling over at Owen, trying to hide the fact that he cheeks were beginning to flush. As Claire was about to say something to Owen, investors began walking to the main area of the exhibit. “Good morning!” Claire greeted, handing out the portfolios filled with all the information for the day, the estimated returns on investments, and each individual dinosaurs progress; even noting that there were meant to be five instead of four. Claire kept that for Owen.

As the investors asked questions, Owen and Barry answered quickly. When they were demonstrating the girls inside the enclosure, Owen was down there beside them, performing the small acts that he could with them. For Owen, he never wanted to make them appear like they were some circus animals, but rather, that they were dangerous yet intelligent. Owen made sure to continually displayed the way they could outrun him, outmaneuver him, they even though they were submissive to him, they were still dangerous if he did not handle them properly. Throughout the demonstration, it was clear that Owen was educating them on his findings and how he would handle them in front of crowds. 

For all the questions and answers, Owen was prepared, and there was something deep within Claire that made her proud. Owen’s work was showing, that it was recognised, that it was clear he was doing the best work he could. She couldn’t help but feel lucky. The investors discussed things privately with Claire, noting that they were happy with the investments, and would like to see the progress of the exhibit in a few months. Claire was happy to oblige. 

As the investors left, Claire walked over to the boys. They were hugging each other with giant smiles on their faces, relieved and elated that the showing went just as smoothly as they had hoped. 

“You two did amazing! They’re really happy with the progress,” Claire announced, walking back over to them. Barry beamed.

“That’s fantastic,” he cheered. 

“We’ll have to give the girls some extra treats. They were on their best behaviour today,” Owen commented, smiling back at Claire. 

“You two should be proud of yourselves,” she said, a sigh of relief and joy escaping her. 

“I’m going to go feed them,” Barry remarked, smacking Owen in the shoulder. In the silence that followed, Claire wasn’t sure what to say; there was so much to say that starting with anything seemed false. She was ready to walk off, possibly go back to her office and send reports ahead of schedule, but Owen reached out to her.

“Hey, Claire,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah?” 

“I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he said, clearing his throat and stepping closer to her.

“Is something wrong?” 

“No,” he started, “it’s just….Claire, did I overstep?” The furrow in his brow and the uneasy way he stood, Claire saw that was the most uncomfortable Owen had been around her. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, a little confused. 

“That was the first time we’ve had sex since you found out,” he said in a whisper. Claire let out a soft sigh.

“Owen,” she said, catching his hand, “come on. Let’s grab a coffee,” she said, guiding them to one of the nearby coffee stands. 

“I did, didn’t I?” he cursed and Claire rolled her eyes. Her hand loosened around his, looping her fingers with his and walking slowly alongside him. 

“Owen, we’ve been seeing each other every night for ten years. We were soulmates in that dream and lovers as well,” she said softly, stepping forward at the stand and placing money on the counter, “two regular black coffees. Thanks,” she ordered. When the two cups came, Owen and Claire grabbed the little cups and began walking hand in hand down the sidewalk. “It meant a lot to me, last night. We got to find where we are, what we want, the things we couldn’t do in person,” she said, sipping at her coffee. Owen’s hand let go of Claire’s, his pace stopping. 

“But?” 

Claire shook her head. “No but. We didn’t rush anything, we’re letting things run their natural course, and I like that. I want that,” she said, stepping back to Owen, wondering if he would want to hold her hand this time; want to be as close as she wanted. 

“So, we’re good?” he asked.

“Perfect,” she smiled, “well, as perfect as we can be right now,” she corrected. Owen laughed, stepping closer to her and his hands tentatively took hers once more. They walked along the path, mingled with the guests and feeling like had nothing more to hide; they were free to be….happy. 

“Hey, how’s therapy going?” Owen asked, taking the last sip of his coffee. 

“Good. And you?” Claire shrugged. Owen had opted to go as well, the understanding of how things could work went against who he was; he liked being closed off to other people. But this was for Claire, so he sucked it up and went, learning more about dreams and what everything meant. 

“Working everything out. Just going over why I felt like I couldn’t talk to you,” he explained, his grip on Claire’s hand tightening and she gripped his hand back, leaning into his hold. 

“Are you fine with going?” she asked, her head resting on his shoulder. 

“I feel like we’re on the same page now,” he muttered, letting himself get as close as he could to her. 

“We’re being open and clear. It’s better that way,” she said, sighing and clutching tighter to his arm and walking as slow as she could, not wanting the time between them to stop. 

“I like talking to you, Claire,” he said.

“You’re not half bad yourself,” she joked and Owen scoffed, kissing at her crown. It was something he had sometimes in dreams - before she knew - and in that moment, she felt safe, protected, and loved by someone that wasn’t going to leave. 

 

*~*~*

 

Between them, Owen and Claire became more busy than either of them thought. Owen had the exhibit to take care of, constantly training the girls and making sure safety regulations were up to scratch at the end of every day. Claire was given more meetings, given new assets to look over, Masrani making meetings with her nearly every week just to keep up his information. When Masrani comes back from his small vacations, he wanted to know everything that was going on with his park; he cared deeply about its success with the people, not the money. 

In the weeks following their date, limited instances occurred around the park. They had so much going on, all they could do was meet for lunch or coffee, discussing their time and meeting again in dreams. Owen had expressed the fact that he missed her once, and Claire felt the same; a longing that was present when they were around each other. Dreams were always swept up in intense emotions when the longing was reaching its limits. 

In a month, Claire and Owen were finding a rhythm of when to see each other, trying to navigate to find a perfect balance in their chaotic schedule. One day, Claire was walking down the steps, pulling her hair up into a messy bun and reading over some reports that she needed to finalise before sending off to different departments. She looked up to make sure she wasn’t running into anyone when she saw Owen, his hair a little messy - but that wasn’t unusual, given his job - and his hands were behind his back, a smile on his face. Though it seemed forced, Claire didn’t think much of it. 

“I like you being so close in the park. I don’t have to travel ages to see you,” Claire said, reaching Owen and kissing up at his cheek.

“Well, I was worried I’d see you,” he grimaced as he revealed why he was hiding his hand. His right arm was bandaged from his bicep down to his wrist. Looking at him, Claire could see that he was in a fair bit of pain. In his other hand, he revealed medical supplies that were given to him by the doctors at the park. Claire recognised the packaging from different approval meetings. He wasn’t medicated yet, that was for sure. 

“What happened?” Claire asked, smacking his left arm. 

“It’s nothing,” he lied. 

“Nothing? You’re all bandaged up! How is that nothing?” she yelled, smacking his left arm again. He buckled that time and Claire stopped her assault, helping him to not rest on the arm, apologising for her outburst. 

“Charlie knocked me down, Echo got excited. Being low can often be seen as submissive, and Echo took advantage of that,” he explained, both of them walking slowly to the apartments of the employees. 

“I don’t like you being hurt,” Claire said, a strong furrow in her brow as she looked over at him. 

“I don’t like me being hurt. You hurt me for it,” he said, raising his brow. 

“I do not! I just like your hands,” Claire huffed. 

“I’m sure you do,” Owen smirked. 

“Gross,” she scoffed. 

“Says the woman that -” 

Claire covered his mouth, suppressing a laugh. “There are people around.” She warned him with a glare and lowered her hand. 

“But I like making you laugh,” he smiled. 

“I know you do,” she said, standing in front of him, and both of them remaining silent. It was hard to leave each other more these days; the days where they talk for only a few moments before having to leave. Claire hated that they were apart so much, that they rarely got to see each other in person. In the ten years of yearning wasn’t enough, they had to suffer more even after they’re together. 

“I gotta get home,” Owen said after a while. 

“Bike?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“You’re going to make me worry the whole time,” Claire complained, knowing she shouldn’t, but not being able to help it. Her heart was aching. 

“I know, but I’ll be okay. You’re gonna see me in a few hours,” he smiled, kissing her cheek and began to leave. Claire dashed over to him, catching his left arm. Owen turned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, but Claire didn’t reply at first, leaning forward and kissing him sharply, wanting to feel his lips on hers for, what felt like, the first time in years. In reality, it was more like a few days. Resting back on her heels, Claire smiled but at Owen.

“Just wanted to say goodnight,” she grinned, letting his arm go.

“You’re such a tease,” he joked, kissing her back and letting Claire walk off this time. And just like that, it was the same. Owen caught her arm, but instead of letting her know what was going on, dipped her into a kiss that had desperation in its wake. Claire let her hand rest on his cheek, kissing him over and over again before he pulled away and rested his forehead against her own.

“Now who’s the tease?” she whispered. 

“Still you,” he laughed, walking off and leaving Claire to scoff. She chased him slightly, letting her hand hit his backside, which made Owen gasp in an over dramatic fashion. Claire laughed that time.

That night, they dreamed they were together, sat in a bed, cuddling close to each other and never leaving. They talked about nothing, they talked about everything, but mostly, Claire just wanted to know what made Owen happy. She didn’t want to talk about her much, she was just happy he was there, and wanted him to be just as joyous as she was. Claire asked Owen about that night, and he said, to her amazement and fake eye rolls, that she was there, so he was always going to be happy. He was sappy and probably still a little high from his pain medication, but Claire loved that sappy man she found in her dreams.

When a few more weeks went by, their lives becoming in sync and routine, it felt lonely to go without Owen. The days she had meetings with him were her favourite; time taken to just see him, listen to his work - it was what she wanted from her life. On the day Claire was supposed to have a meeting with Owen, she was interrupted by a panicked Zara - a very unusual look on the composed assistant Claire was used to. 

“Zara, you can calm down,” Claire tried, but she knew her words were going to be lackluster. 

“But the dress -” 

“I know, but you can’t do anything about it here,” she explained, just as Owen was walking through elevator doors. This was going to be stressful if she couldn’t calm Zara down. 

“I need to go check, Alec can’t see it,” Zara exclaimed. 

“He’s on the mainland,” Claire said, stating the obvious. She rolled her eyes on that one. 

“But -” 

“Zara,” Claire stopped her, “take a breath,” she said, breathing deeply with Zara. “Call your mom or his mom and make sure he can’t get home,” 

“His mom! Perfect!” Zara cheered, squeezing Claire’s cheeks before racing around her desk and picking up her phone. Owen walked over, a concerned look on his brow as Claire opened the door to her office. 

“What was that all about?” he whispered just as they walked past the threshold and walked the length of her office. 

“The dress is getting delivered to her apartment today, and because Alec is a nosy guy, will try and look at it,” Claire explained. 

“Averting catastrophe are we, Ms Dearing?” Owen said, his hand slipping around her waist, pulling her to a stop.

“I think so,” she smiled and Owen leaned down, stealing a chaste kiss before anyone could see. “You ready?” she asked, slipping from his hold, though he did chase the touch, Owen let her go without complaint. 

“Yeah, got some reports to hand in. Video logs as well,” he said, handing over his report and Claire checked through her emails, finding the video file on her phone. 

“Oh thank god, I thought I’d be going blind from reading so much,” Claire said, watching as Owen reclined into his chair. 

“You just like watching me work,” he smirked, winking at her and Claire scoffed, letting the blush wash over her cheeks as she sat.

“That too,” she smiled and Owen grinned, chuckling to himself. On Claire’s computer, she pulled up the video files, going over the report as she watched and discussing things with Owen. He pointed out things she missed, information that they could use for future reference or the possibility that they could improve on the exhibit. Claire smiled as she watched Owen talk about his work. She loved seeing him happy. 

In the midst of their happiness, the everyday routines and seeing each other in odd and infrequent periods of time, Claire felt her heart longing for more. She used to find solace in dreams, the place where she could see her soulmate; but when he’s in arms reach, their issues resolved and their lives back on track, it felt like they had less time together. She could hold him in person now, kiss him whenever she wanted, but they lived so far from each other, had no time because work kept them apart and their personal spaces were not merged together. It made Claire feel hopeless, and Owen noticed. She didn’t speak about it, didn’t want another thing to be wrong between them. There was openness and insecurity, and she wasn’t ready for them to deal with something else that was weighing on her mind. 

Most days, she would push past it, take time to herself and allow herself to think of the times where they did spend time together, imagine when things would fall more perfectly into place. But when more days stretched between into weeks with contact like the length of ten years, it drained Claire; all she wanted to do was feel like she was in the moment, she was with someone that wanted to be beside her. 

And one night, she couldn’t take the pain in her chest. She had contemplated drinking all the wine she had in her cupboards but knew that would only make her sadder. Instead, she reached for her phone. Her thumb hovered over the name; a name that was imprinted on her heart, left a mark that she never wanted to cover. Owen. That name that went on her lips and the person it belonged to kissing her after she said it. He was there for her, right? He was the one person that she could turn to when her heart was failing to be strong. Right? That’s what a soulmate was for. 

Tentatively, Claire clicked the number, the nail on her thumb in between her teeth as the phone rang and rang and rang and rang and ra -

“Everything okay?” Owen said, slightly out of breath.

“Hello to you too,” Claire laughed, the sound of his voice making the nerves running over her fade, replaced with butterflies that swooping in her stomach and yet, made her feel grounded. 

“You don’t normally call,” he reminded, his breath regaining, a little more in control of himself. 

“I wanted to hear your voice,” she sighed, her fingers playing with her hair. In the silence, she heard him breathing, the closest she could come to hearing him speak in that moment. She craved it, like chasing a feeling of something she wasn’t sure she knew of. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, soft and welcoming. 

“Can I…” Claire stopped herself and wondered if she would finish her sentence, if she’d ask the question. In the end, she did. “Can I come and see you?” she asked, biting into her lip. There was a pause; a pause that felt like it lasted hours, but rather just a few moments. 

“You want some dinner? I was gonna make pasta or something,” he said, somewhat taken back. 

“I could go for some pasta,” Claire said, still chewing on her lip. 

“Good, it’s the one dish I make without any mistakes,” he chuckled. 

“So, I can?” she asked, still unsure if she should go. 

“Of course. Come over,” he said, and Claire hung up, pulling on her jeans, and a red sweater that was in her wardrobe. She wasn’t trying to look good, in fact, she probably looked messy and tired; because she felt it. Driving out to his bungalow, stepping up to the door, she tucked hair behind her ear, taking in a breath before knocking. Inside, she heard him stumble around before finally reaching the door. He opened it wide, smiling to Claire as he left room to guide her in. It wasn’t the first time she’d been, but when she stepped it, it felt like a new place. 

“Well, you cleaned up since -” she said, stopping her sentence short and looking back at him, “You cleaned up,” she said with a laugh. Owen tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He looked like he was relaxing for the night; grey sweatpants, plain navy t-shirt, socks that he used to slip around the tiny bungalow hardwood. 

“You complained the last time you were here, even saying my soulmate would hate it. You’re my soulmate, ergo, I needed to clean,” he explained, rubbing at the back of his head, letting fingers through her hair. 

“It looks a hell of a lot better since last time,” she joked and he rolled his eyes. Claire rolled up her sleeves, going to the kitchen to see how everything was being made, “that smells amazing,” she said looking back at Owen. He stepped forward, his hand on her waist.

“Hey,” he said softly, “get changed.” 

“What?” Claire laughed. 

“We’re not relaxing out here with you in jeans and a sweater,” he said, moving to his bedroom and emerging with a maroon sweatshirt with some sort of print on it and some grey sweatpants, “these are clean, I promise. You’ll have a better time in these. Trust me,” he smiled, handing them over to her. 

“You’re weird, Grady,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Don’t fault my logic,” he replied, guiding her to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Claire looked through the clothes, seeing the hooded sweatshirt and the print on it. It was a hoodie from his navy days, the insignia of the corp on the chest of the jumper. To Owen, it must have been just any old sweatshirt, but having it in her hands, wearing it, meant something to Claire; that he may trust her one day with his past, more than he had already. Claire knew there were things he didn’t talk about, or want to discuss with her about that time, but she hoped that he found comfort in her, and one day, he could tell her about his life. 

Changing, Claire adjusted the size of the clothes to her shape and took out her normal clothes, placing them on the couch. Owen turned around, and like always, sparks were in his eyes; yet, there was a fondness that was hidden within them, taking in something he hadn’t yet seen. It didn’t take much to get Claire to feel weak these days. 

“I had to tighten the drawstrings,” she explained, revealing the three knots made to the drawstrings. She started to walk into the kitchen when Owen put his hand up to stop her. 

“Wait, I need to save this in my memory,” he said, fixing his fingers in a frame like manner and squinting his eyes, “as the first time I’ve seen you look….truly lazy,” he smirked and began to chuckle. Claire scoffed, stepping into the kitchen and punch his arm lightly. 

“Are you making fun of me?” she asked.

“No, I think you look as beautiful as ever,” he grinned, and Claire felt out of place, ready for a playfulness that turned to adoration. 

“Well,” she said, swallowing the tone, “thank you.” 

“Taste this, my mom made me memorise this sauce, and I want to make sure it tastes good to you,” he asked, tugging her hand to the stove top and letting her taste at the edge of the wooden spoon. It was a strange mix of sweet and savory, the perfect assortment of tastes for a sauce. 

“God, that’s amazing,” she exclaimed, licking at her lips and Owen’s hand tapped at her hip.

“Then, we’re ready to go!” he said, gesturing up to a cupboard over her head. She reached up as Owen turned his stovetop off. She found bowls, asking if they were it and Owen nodded. They maneuvered around each other, gathering everything for a meal and Owen serving where he could. 

At the round breakfast table, they sat opposite each other, talking briefly about their day before Owen seemed worried. He knew - as he always did - that something was wrong, that it was something that she hadn’t been addressing in a while. Claire had finished her dinner, pushing the bowl away from her and relaxing into the chair. She wasn’t sure what to say, where to start, but she knew this was the best time. 

Admitting that she felt lonely, lonelier than when she didn’t know who he could be, was hard on her. Claire thought she may cry if she ever told Owen, the sadness in his eyes as she expressed the longing between them. Instead, she remained free of tears, Owen nodding along as she expressed that she couldn’t stand being away from him, that the smallest distance between them hurt something in her. 

To her surprise, Owen admitted the same. That there was a tug in his chest now that Claire knew, that time apart felt like a new kind of torture. He had suffered loneliness for ten years, but nothing like this. He knew she was within his reach and that they were together, but something felt like it separated them even when they’re close. He knew on days that he saw her it would be difficult for him to leave her, but she didn’t need him to cling to her. Claire couldn’t only think the same; the amount of times she restrained herself from asking him to stay just a while longer. 

Cleaning the dishes, they stay beside each other, Claire washing them, and Owen drying them, leaning over her to put the dishes away. Claire laughed, knocking her hip against his but they never truly parted. After it was all done, Claire looked at the door and hated the shape of it, telling her to go home when she didn’t want to. Owen pulled on her wrist lightly, sitting down in a worn la-z-boy and tugging Claire into his lap. 

“May not get to cling onto you during the day, but you’re here so it’s my time,” he said, kissing her cheek. Claire didn’t laugh or try to pull away. She smiled, curling to a comfortable spot on his lap, trying not to rest too heavily on him as he switched on the TV. Early into the first movie, Claire realised that Owen wasn’t watching it at all, his forehead resting up against her shoulder, holding around her waist and having her pressed up against him. There was a perfect image of happiness, what Claire had hoped for as a girl and craved when she first met Owen. 

As the night drew in, whispers of animals outside the home, and stars sparkling off the ocean’s water into the bungalow, Claire yawned. Owen rubbed at her arm, letting her head rest against his and kissing her shoulder as he held her close. The tightness of his hold said he didn’t want to let her go, but would if she wanted him to. 

“It’s strange,” she grumbled, “we’ve never been around each other when we need to go to sleep,” she said with a laugh and Owen moved his head back, looking up at her. 

“Do you want me to drive you back?” he asked. Claire swallowed hard before shaking her head. He patted her hip, thinking of something else. “The couch is a little crumby, I’ll -” he started, but when Claire’s hand rested on his cheek, her head shaking again, it dawned on him. “Oh,” he said, elongating the word.  

“I just...I want to sleep next to you,” she confessed, and Owen slowly nodded. 

“I can do that,” he said, voice soft and asking for something. She leaned down, kissing him quickly, though it still felt like it lasted eons. 

They moved lazily to Owen’s room, where, incidentally, all the mess ended up. Clothes and random items were scattered across the floor and ended up half in his wardrobe. He apologised but Claire shrugged. She didn’t mind it, though in the morning, her mind may care more. The sweatshirt Owen had given her was large, hanging midway down her thighs, but it was still warm enough at night to miss an item of clothing. Claire started to tug the pants down, kicking them aside, but noting where they ended up so she could clean up the next morning. Owen had watched her, a flush in his cheeks and Claire gave him a look, asking him if he was serious. He silently replied with a shrug. Taking off his t-shirt, he tossed it to the ground, and began moving back the sheets. As he was doing that, Claire unclipped her bra, putting it where the sweatpants ended up and jumping into bed next to Owen. 

There was silence between them before they both erupted into giggles, cuddling closer to each other. It was strange. So utterly strange that he was there, that she was lying beside him and she’d be seeing him in only a few moments. Claire reached over to his neck, tugging lightly on him to kiss his lips. She kissed him with short sweet touches, giggling all the while. So much time was wasted, and now, they would be sleeping beside each other like they always wanted. 

“Goodnight, Claire,” Owen muttered, kissing her forehead. 

“Goodnight, Owen,” she giggled, cuddling close to him, resting in his arms as he held her softly. They drifted to sleep in what felt like no time; the temptation of sleep within their grasp. 

In their dream, it was like the first time Claire saw Owen. A bed that stretched on for miles, their clothes barely on, a lust that had built between them in just the length of falling asleep. Owen smiled, shifting on top of Claire, his hand sliding down her thigh. They exchanged fiery kisses, hands binding into hair and begging for more than just their heated lips on each other. 

Claire was left panting with the way Owen’s kisses trailed down her neck, their bodies grinding together to create a friction that they both desperately craved. He was right there, able to touch, to kiss, to please. And yet - she was stuck in a dream, reality so close yet far for them. It felt wrong, that they couldn’t live a life without their dreams in the way. She couldn’t take more years stuck in something that wasn’t real. 

“Wait,” Claire breathed, her hand pushing against his chest. Owen stopped, settling back on his knees. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching her with eyes that never left her. He was watching her like she could break. 

“Not like this,” she tried, squeezing her eyes shut. Why were dreams so easy to leave when she didn’t want them to, but so hard when she needed to. 

“Claire, what did I do?” he asked, trying to touch her, but Claire pulled away. She wanted reality. 

“No, I just,” she stuttered, pushing Owen away and running her hands through her hair. “I need to wake up.” 

“Claire, talk to me,” Owen tried once more, but she couldn’t reply because she jolted up in Owen’s bed. 

When she woke, she saw that a few hours had passed, her blood pumping, her skin on fire. Owen jolted awake next to her, scrambling to her side. 

“Hey! What’s going on?” he asked, hands on either cheek, checking her over with the widest eyes. Owen had seen a lot in his time, must have been frightened beyond belief, but those eyes were wild with fear. “Are you okay?” he asked. Claire clutched onto the back of his neck, wondering what she could say, what she could do. So she did the thing she wanted. She kissed him, taking him completely off guide and pushing her weight onto him. 

“I don’t…” she muttered, in between her kiss, finally allowing herself to breathe as she made her way into Owen’s lap. “I don’t want to be stuck in dreams. I want us. Now.”

“A-are you sure?” he asked, hands resting on her hips, unsure if he should touch her at all. 

“Do you want to?” she asked in return, alleviating the weight she pressed down on him. He pulled her back down on top of him, pulling her further into his lap. 

“Hell yes,” he remarked, smiling eagerly, before he loosened his hold on her, his hands once more unsure of what to do. “Is this -” 

“Owen,” Claire started, taking his hoodie over her head, tossing it aside and sitting practically bare on top of him, “we’ve done this before. No need to be shy now,” she whispered as she leaned down to kiss him. 

“God, I love you,” he muttered before her lips touched his. Their hips worked together, grinding and riding out a rhythm with each other. Claire urged the edge of his sweatpants down, rubbing herself hot against his boxer briefs, the hardness of him becoming more prominent. Owen kicked the rest of his sweats, pulling Claire closer to him. Owen’s hand guided up her ribs, fingers running over her nipples, gripping into her breasts as Claire kept riding on top of Owen. His length was becoming harder with each stroke of her hips, Claire’s fingers carefully dancing over the edge of his boxers. Owen’s hips jerked up to hers, causing Claire to shift further onto Owen’s lap and he moaned deep in his chest. 

“Is someone feeling frustrated?” Claire asked, her voice soft and tempting. Owen threw his head back. 

“Teasing suits you, unfortunately,” he moaned again. Claire lifted from his lap, allowing him room to move his boxers off as Claire tugged her underwear down and off, trying to leave Owen’s lap as little as possible. Returning, Owen was sitting up, his hand stroking his shaft and his eyes locked with hers. Owen guided his cock inside of Claire, and she sighed as she allowed her to move further onto him. 

With her hands on his shoulders, Claire rocked back and forth on top of him, gaining a sense of control when she was making her rhythm quicker than what Owen had expected. His mouth went slack and he hissed, kissing into her shoulder. She and Owen had done this so many times in dreams, but reality was a different story, the need far more intoxicating, too hard to resist the urge to act like animals against each other. 

Claire pushed down on his chest, Owen complying to his role and resting his hands on her hips. One hand reached for her ass, pulling her along his shaft, his own thrusts meeting her at the end and making her shiver, moaning out incoherent words of pleasure. Nails dug into Owen’s chest, catching on the scar on his chest. Her fingers released, running softly on the tender flesh as Owen’s hand slid down from her hip to her thigh; calloused hands soft against tender flesh. They were in sync with each other. Tender and rough, all rolled into one experience, making her feel weak when she was meant to be powerful above him. Of course Owen had a way of doing that without even trying. 

Snapping back up to be face to face with her, Owen came ran his hands up her back, his hand on the back of her head and forced her into a rough kiss. He made their movements more desperate, tripping her into moving faster to accommodate him and his size. She wanted him more and more, the way he felt inside of her, rocking her to her core; it was more than any dream could imagine. 

“Don’t stop,” Claire begged. She knew he wouldn’t, probably couldn’t, their bodies moving in some sort of trance, knowing what the other needed; desperately trying to achieve the ultimate pleasure that they’ve both been searching for. 

Claire clutched onto Owen, arms wrapped around his head, his face buried into her chest as she rocked harder into him. His thrusts became more demanding, telling her to keep up with him or he’ll make sure she couldn’t walk in the morning. She was almost tempted to take him up on the offer. But when the tightness in her stomach was readying to break, Claire locked her legs around his waist, allowing little room between them as she rocked into him harder and harder. 

It came hard, breaking over her in a tidal wave of pleasure. Owen’s hand moved down her back, making her shiver, holding her tight to him as she rode out her orgasm, finding the lovely aftershocks of pleasure that her body was giving, the feeling rolling over one another that made it that much more incredible. 

Claire moaned loudly, bucking her hips out of sync with Owen, trying to gain the last bits of her orgasm, chasing the sensation because it washed over her like an ocean. It wiped her out, tossing her under waves that she couldn’t breathe through. And all the while, Owen was thrusting into her, taking a breath she was craving harder and harder. He was stealing it away just so her orgasm was forced to be chased. 

Owen’s mouth, hot and eager, breathed against her chest, nipping at her skin, and teeth grazing on her. Their bodies were rocking together, sweat breaking on their skin, almost exhausted, but never enough to stop them from going. Wrapping his arm around her back, Owen turned them around, letting Claire rest into his bed, his hands pressed deep into his mattress. 

“What? You thought you’d have all the fun?” Owen asked, his thrusts shallow as he talked. He was going slow and dragging out their moment, and Claire moaned, arching her back. She wanted more and he knew what he was doing.

“Wasn’t expecting you to get jealous of me on top,” Claire teased, moaning as Owen pushed himself forward, hard enough to move her up the bed. 

“I always did love watching you squirm underneath me,” he said, kissing at her neck and letting his tongue run along her pulseline, pumping hard under his mouth.

“Then make me,” she challenged. Owen bit hard into his lip before he surged forward and Claire arched, moaning deeply and clutching onto Owen’s shoulders. 

It was like what they’d do so many times before. Owen’s hips worked miracles, circling and thrusting deep into her, begging for noises to come from her because he could reach spots she didn’t know she had. Owen lived up to his word, making her arch and squirm, beg for him to release them both from the torturous pleasure they placed themselves in. 

Their hips rolled against each other, thrusts given hard and uncoordinated; their pleasure was no longer something that was meant to be perfect in the preparation, it just needed to come undone for both of them. Owen’s hand bound with Claire’s, tight fingers clutching onto each other. All Claire wanted was the then and there, she wanted him, to feel him spill inside her and have him crumble on top of her. 

Her second orgasm broke first. Crying sharply, Claire clutched onto his back, body still moving to gain every inch of her pleasure, aiding in his own. When Owen’s moans and grunts became tight, more frequent and his hand bound tight to hers, Claire knew he wasn’t meant for much more. It took him only a few more quick thrusts to have him slow, his body stilling and shaking as his back tension and arched in a perfect way under Claire’s nails. Their bodies moved together, soft grinding to gain the last remnants of their climaxes. And it felt...perfect. 

Owen panted into her neck, loosening his grip on her hand and using his other to run a thumb down her cheek, catching on the edge of her lip. Claire breathed out a laugh, her eyes rolling back as the pleasure was still centred in her body.

Rolling to the side, Owen continued to pant, but even that distance was too much for them. Owen was already reaching his arm around Claire’s shoulder when she moved to rest her head against his body. Her cheek rested on Owen’s chest, her fingers running over his scar, tangling in the hair that curled on his chest. Owen’s hand ran over her arms, thumbs rubbing at her skin to soothe her. She didn’t need it. She was perfectly content. 

“Do you wanna get married?” he asked, voice interrupting a silence that had built naturally. Claire raised herself up, her chin on his chest, tilting her head as she looked up at him. 

“What would make you say something like that, Babe?” Claire asked. Owen reached out, fingers soft as they wound in her hair, strands curling around his knuckles.

“I wanted to know what’s going on in that head of yours,” he said, the question still lingering in the air. 

“Yeah. Someday,” she confirmed. 

“Tomorrow?” he asked, smiling after his question, a joke hidden behind that goofy smile. 

“Ask me next year,” Claire chuckled, shaking her head. 

“I can do that,” Owen shrugged, a soft pout of contemplating resting on his bottom lip. “Waiting is easy now,” he said, looking down at her, fingers letting hair slip and regaining new strands of the crimson locks. 

“You are too good to me,” she laughed. 

“I love you. I’d wait a lifetime for you,” he said with a sigh, no smile but a serious tone; he wanted her to know that he meant it. His words taken for jokes most often than not, and this was one time he wanted to be held seriously. 

“You don’t have to,” Claire reminded, leaning over Owen, kissing him swiftly before falling at his side and cuddling beside him. They drifted to sleep, meeting in their dreams and finding more pleasure there, but not as enjoyable as reality was. Now, reality was where the magic happened. Dreams were where it continued. 

Waking before Owen, Claire looked over at the dozing giant - her other half - fondness rooted deep in her heart. Claire shrugged on the hoodie, grabbing her underwear and putting it on as she cleaned little pieces she could. Going into the kitchen, Claire started opening up cupboards and the fridge, trying to find something she could use to make breakfast. 

“Claire?” a husky voice called from the bedroom. Claire smiled, leaning back over to the doorway and waving to the half dazed Owen as he was rising from his sleep. 

“Babe, did you want to grab breakfast or do you want me to make something?” she asked. Owen grabbed his boxer briefs, slipping them on as he shuffled into the kitchen. 

“I’ll make something,” he said, a yawn escaping him. 

“I’ll make the coffee then,” she said, patting his chest as he reached her and kissing his lips briefly. He caught her waist, pulling her to a stop. 

“I could get used to you calling me that,” he said, voice still hoarse and it made Claire’s chest rattle with a wanting need; have him closer and kiss him longer. 

“What?” she asked, tilting her head. His hand ran through her hair. She was beginning to think he may like her hair more than he was letting on. 

“Babe,” he commented, kissing at her nose delicately, “feels right.” He shrugged, trying to play off his words but Claire shook her head. 

“Well good, ‘cause I’m not going to stop,” she beamed. Owen leaned down to kiss her this time, then moving around the kitchen to grab pans and different cooking utensils. “What are you making?” 

“French toast,” he commented, reaching for all the ingredients in the fridge. 

“I thought you said you could only cook pasta,” she quipped and Owen turned, winking to her. 

“I lied.” 

Claire jaw dropped as she let out a soft scoff. “You’re trying to surprise me, aren’t you?” 

“Gotta keep you on your toes,” he smirked and Claire laughed, going to his coffee machine, and reaching for two large mugs. 

With breakfast finished, Owen and Claire washing the dishes, Owen mentioned the time, only to realise that Claire was with him. “Shit, we’re gonna be able to sneak you back to the park in time for you to make it for work,” he cursed. 

“I have spare stuff in my car,” Claire shrugged and Owen looked over at her curiously. “What? What if I spill something and I can’t get back to my place? I’ve gotta be prepared,” she explained. 

“You’re a genius,” he laughed.

“Why thank you,” Claire said, knocking her hip to his. Owen wiped his hands and moved over to a cupboard near his bathroom. Pulling out a towel, he handed it over to Claire. 

“Go have a shower, I’ll finish up with the dishes and grab your stuff from your car,” he said.

“Thank you,” Claire leaned up to kiss him and Owen grabbed her car keys, moving out the front door, only to appear back in a moment. 

“My hot water is like, really minimal out here, so try and make it short,” he yelled out into the bungalow. He rushed off to the car, and Claire slinked back to the bathroom. 

“Well hurry up or I’ll use it all,” she called back to him.

“I will jump in there,” he retorted, unlocking the car and opening its door. 

“Why do you think I want you to hurry up?” Claire called out, hearing the car doors slam shut and the locking sound ring, frantic running coming up the steps to his room. Claire laughed in the bathroom. When Owen came in, he had a giant smile on his lips, tossing her clothes on the sink and taking her hoodie over her head, leading her into the shower. Claire found that she didn’t stop smiling around Owen, that joy was a constant emotion that radiated from her, emitting from her bones until it escaped her with laughs and smiles. 

They dressed quickly after their shower, driving back to the main park before the guests started to wake. They were running late because of course they were, but they walked up the steps to Claire’s office, hand in hand, fingers tight that could make knuckles white. They stopped just short of the door to the innovation centre, and Claire huffed, leaning her head against his chest. Owen laughed. 

“I’ll see you after work, okay?” she said, pouting as she knew she’d be dying to see him all throughout the day. 

“Your place or mine?” he asked, raising a brow. 

“Oh, right,” she said, a curse muffled under her breath. 

“We’ll meet at mine,” Owen said, kissing the crown of her head and looking down at her. 

“Can we please discuss getting a soulmate unit? I’m going to get frustrated choosing a place to stay,” she explained, getting her phone out from her pocket and already searching 

“I’m going to be getting texts about this all day, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” she apologised, biting at her lip. 

“You’re not sorry at all,” Owen said, scrunching up his nose.

“Not,” Claire said, leaning up, stealing a kiss from his lips, “at,” she said, stealing another, “all.” And one last kiss that lasted long and pressed against two laughing lips. Owen rested his forehead against her, both giggling to each other, joy that couldn’t help but be shared. There were three words that were shared between two beating hearts that they didn’t want to say, because they didn’t need to. They loved each other, and for once, reality was better than any dream.


	10. Epilogue: Something Tragic and Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's here. The final chapter. Guys, I'm very emotional about this fic. I put so much time and passion into it. I really do hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I have. No words can describe what I'm feeling. Thank you for reading! I adore all the comments and kudos! you're all fantastic readers. For the final time, thank you to my beta Clare, who put up with me and encouraged me to stay focused when I didn't want this fic to end.   
> Thank you all. You're amazing. See you on the next fic. xx

Owen never expected much when he turned twenty-one, there had never been any reason to. He was a romantic at heart - but when he opened his eyes to an empty dream that first night, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Finding solace in a kiss that felt empty, bodies that would reach fever pitch but could do nothing for him, he stopped looking for peace. His mom knew, that he was missing something; his soulmate wasn’t twenty-one yet. His father had to suffer the same, but he never spoke of it, the thought never truly bothering him. Owen hoped that he was the same. 

On his twenty-third birthday, there was a spark in his chest; he had waited two years and would wait for his soulmate for however long he needed. 

Maybe he was cursed. Forever alone or never able to meet someone. What if his soulmate never existed and he was to wander in the dreams, a shadow of someone who could have been? Only time would be his friend, the thing he walked hand in hand with, because he could not touch anything else. He considered the likelihood; they had died long before he knew what soulmates were, forever parted by death’s embrace. On those nights, where he felt sickly and unloved, he plucked at beautiful flowers, watching as the make believe wind took them up and carried the lost love onto someone else. Maybe they’d reach someone. Someday. 

It was only a few months later when he saw her. She was the first to do anything. She had cleared her throat as he was picking at flowers for whatever time frame could recognise his wait. She had scrawny arms, nervous knees and hair like the embers of a fire. She was wandering around nervously, taking in the sights of dreams she had never explored. Owen had taken these settings for granted, never truly appreciated them. And with the first sight of her, he understood everything. The wait, the anticipation, the utter joy of knowing that there was someone meant for you. This girl was his. 

But there was something off, that she wasn’t as excited as he felt. She put on a smile, nervous and weak, then a wave. 

“Hi,” she said, her voice small. God, it was beautiful, soft and carrying with it a wonder that Owen had not considered. 

“Hi,” he replied, trying to appear less nervous, but she wasn’t reacting the way he thought. There was nervous smiling, a little bashful and unsure; but she wasn’t looking at him fully, almost looking past him. He walked to her slowly. 

“How does this work?” she asked, giggling. Nervous. She was just nervous. Owen gave over his own laugh. 

“I have no idea,” he replied back. He was happy. He met her. Finally. “I’ve been waiting for two years to see your face,” he said, her hand running up her arm. She looked shameful, that she was responsible for something. 

“Two years?” she asked, stepping forward, both staggering together like the pull of the earth and the moon, constantly parallel to each other, “wasn’t that hard?” Owen smiled. The cautious and concerned look on her face made him feel weak. He wanted to smile for the rest of the night, but his cheeks could not sustain such a feat.

“I can be patient,” he muttered, his hand on her cheek, barely present, like he couldn’t afford to break her. She was in his reach, a touch, and he didn’t dare to push harder; what if she faded or disappeared? He didn’t want the reality of her there to fade like so many unfulling dreams. She was soft, tender and welcoming. Owen knew when her eyes fluttered shut at his touch, he was in love with her. Fully and completely. 

It wasn’t until a few months later that she confessed the reality of the situation to him. She was crying, trying to hold back the slips of tears from the brink of her eye. Owen hated it, the sadness he gave her because she was unable to see him. He tried to seem okay, to not seem as heartbroken as he was. Back when he thought she’d never come, he thought he was cursed. When she told him, he knew he was. And when he stopped her from crying, he was glad she couldn’t see him, because he allowed himself to swallow the lump in his throat and slowly let the tears trail down until they vanished from his skin. 

After that moment, Owen let it go. He couldn’t blame her and he didn’t want to. Maybe time could be on their side, allow her a moment of peace where she could find herself. He always reminded her that time could change his face for her, that he would no longer be a scratched out mess. He would be seen and they didn’t have to wait anymore. 

When Owen was thirty-one, he had come back from his final tour, contract with the Navy up, and his arm numbed slightly. He was surprised about the job, it was his specialty in university with animal behaviours, and he was trained with combat, but dinosaurs? He felt like he was pushing his luck. On the ferry ride over to the island, Owen remembered how it felt to be home, to dream with her. She didn’t know he was hurt, he played it off, but she knew he had gone to war. 

Walking down the ramp, hitching up his bag, Owen scanned the crowds. He was supposed to be meeting someone named Claire to help him around and understand his position. He wandered the ramp until he saw her. It was his soulmate, with the same haircut that made him a little weak at the knees, his hands feeling clammy. He didn’t even realised he had stopped until someone brushed past him. He walked up to her, smiling as wide as he could. 

“Hi,” he beamed. She shifted her weight in her shoulders, holding herself higher. 

“Are you Owen?” she asked, holding her tablet to her chest. She seemed uncomfortable. Did she not see? Did she not know?

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. He wondered if she thought of him as familiar if she could tell the little things about him. Would he tell her if she didn’t know? Could he even do it? 

“Claire Dearing, operations director. I oversee your role here on the island,” she introduced, turning on her heels and walking down the wharf. He was left in the trails of her steps, and it was beginning to dawn on him that...he was nothing to her in that moment. His hopes were dashed in a glance. “Okay, so let’s go to my office so you know your job. You report to me every other week, but I do expect written reports sent to my office every week,” she explained, going through her own list.

“Yes, Claire,” he said, trying to be playful, like she may remember. Claire rolled her shoulders, turning back to him. He stopped short, both them realising how close they had gotten to each other as they walked. She adjusted, trying to stand as tall as he was. 

“Ms Dearing will do,” she said, tilting her chin. He smirked, tucking his hands into his pockets. “No need to get familiar,” she said, setting her jaw. Owen became straighter, the smirk lost and pride knocked down many pegs. They remained almost silent the rest of the journey, and Owen was kicking himself, angry for pushing things too quickly, for not waiting more. His soulmate - his  _ Claire _ \- was right in front of him and he lost his chance. She didn’t want anything to do with him and he hated himself the more. Why was this all so hard? Couldn’t they catch a single fucking break. It had been eight goddamn years!

It took Owen by surprise that night when Claire said nothing about who he was, that she met him just hours before. After then, it became impossible to tell Claire. The drift between them made it so much harder to confess that he knew who she was, that he could tell when she was upset at work because he’d seen it for ten years. There were little things that told him she was hurting or uncomfortable, and he wanted to comfort her so much more, but knew he couldn’t overstep in person. He thought he provided comfort in their dream. 

That was, until they kissed. It was everything he ever wanted. Ten years in the making. Everything about it was perfect; soft, warm, welcoming, everything a kiss should be. Owen loved every second of it, and it didn’t last nearly long enough. He wanted to kiss her once more but he was taken from his sleep and groaned into his pillow. Owen deserved a hell of a lot more than one kiss, and so did Claire. And when he saw her that morning, she seemed more upset than ever. He needed to talk to her. 

It was the first first in a long time where they talked - talked openly and frankly - and Owen made sure that his jokes were set aside for her. With only a few words, he realised that her dreams were never truly a comfort to her, as they were for him. When he could be intimate with her, allow himself to be fully in love with her, and she was suffering with never knowing who he was. He needed to give her time -  _ space _ \- allow her to figure out things without being overwhelmed. 

To think that was the largest problem he had to deal with was...wildly inaccurate. He thought it would be at the time, to kiss her and have to leave her be because of it. But when their days were spent enjoying each other’s company, flirting and trying not to be obvious, the nights came in with different ideas. When he woke in that dream, he didn’t know what to do with himself; was fate finally giving them a chance together? He was hopefully when he started to kiss her, let his hands roam her body, his tongue taste at her the way it never could before. 

And no matter how many times he wanted it, he wasn’t quite prepared when she called out his name. She said Owen. No realisation, no questioning. She said his name like it was a guilty pleasure, something only he could hear but for them both to indulge in the sound. 

Owen didn’t want to stop, he could touch her and kiss her how he always wanted. Claire didn’t object, but God, at what cost? He knew more than she did. It wasn’t like he wanted the dreams to happen originally. He sometimes wished he could have more, but he wanted Claire to know more than anything else. He wanted her in daylight and moonshine. 

Then, it became more complicated. Each night became more intense, became something to escape to when they wanted to be intimate with each other in person but couldn’t do so. Owen wanted to kiss her and make her cry out his name more than he would care to admit. In the midst of it all, Owen knew he should tell her. And he planned to. When Claire asked him the day of the staff picnic day, he was going to tell her that night. Instead, the blatant scar on his chest did that for him. Fuck that fucking scar.

He wanted to tell her everything, from start to finish, to tell her it wasn’t meant to go this way. But Owen wasn’t allowed that chance. He wasn’t allowed to voice his frustration like Claire could; she was betrayed in a very intimate way beyond anything that Owen had intended, and he couldn’t take it back. No matter how lonely ten years could be for him, months of longing for someone she thought she wanted turned into something unexpected and hurtful. There were no legs to stand on for Owen. 

Throughout the night, he wanted to sleep, but his mind drifted to her. All while he was awake, he thought of her, how he had hurt her without meaning to. He could fix this but he couldn’t if he just sat in his room. He made his way to her door, pacing outside it, reaching for the door at time, ready to know. And then nothing. He didn’t dare. It was only hours ago that she saw the scar, known all the lies, realised everything between them. Owen had no right knocking on her door. Not yet. He waited until morning. 

The ferry had set off back to the island, and he saw Zara and Claire sitting in seats together. The staff were chatting around him, gossiping about everything that went down the day before. He hated the stares and glances, but he watched the two women, wondering if he would find an opening in the midst of their conversation. When Zara left, Owen took a breath and headed over. Zara stopped him at the threshold, pushing him away from where Claire was.

“Owen,” she warned.

“Zara, can this -“ he tried. 

“She knows. She can’t handle all this. You should have seen her this morning,” she explained, and the tight grip on his heart twisted until it shattered. He felt broken. He let out a sigh, combing his hand through his hair. The tears in his eyes welled, and Zara reached out, patting his chest. 

“Is she...okay?” he asked, sniffing away the lump in his throat. 

“Give her time. Try not to push so much.”

“I have to try,” he said, the crack in his voice giving him away further. Zara leaned in, voice low. 

“You know her better than anyone -“

“She’ll hate me but I still need to try. I have to fix this,” he said, stern and swallowing all pride he had left. 

“Things like this don’t get fixed with one conversation,” she told him, her hand on his cheek before she sighed and shook her head. She had less answers than he did. And Owen went back to his vantage point, watching the ocean, but still able to see his soulmate out of the corner of his eye. 

He did a selfish thing. He watched her as she rested, curled up soundly against the window and sleeping so peacefully. Owen wondered, just briefly, if she slept that soundly before - or if he was a bother to her. He wondered if he would be one for her now more than ever. 

Owen almost expected Claire to ignore him, even in their dreams. And yeah, at first she tried but she wanted to yell and scream and talk because, like Owen, she wanted to salvage what they had. It was a love that ran deep, seeped into every hateful crack and nullified the damn thing. When he was around Claire, he hated himself less, he wondered more, his heart was a tender thing instead of closed off and broken. She cured him of something that no other person could. 

Time was their friend and enemy, as it had always been. They gave themselves time to heal, time to understand themselves with help, recover with each other in arm’s length if needed. Owen wanted to be with Claire every moment, and even though they were busier than ever, he hated that they were separated by the length of the park. The night that Claire came, their comforting arms around each other, the coziness of domesticity, it was perfect. They got to love each other in person. And when their night became heated, mixed with sweat and tight moans, Owen didn’t realise happiness could exceed what he was used to. He was enamored with her, the feeling of her. Owen Grady loved her with his full heart, without doubt, without restrictions. And it was perfect.  

From then on, they moved in together at one of the soulmate units, they weren’t quiet about themselves anymore and were that annoying couple in public like Owen always wanted. He loved it when people knew he got the most amazing woman in the world. New about them broke quickly, and betting pools were taken in. Claire got furious about it, and Owen tried to sort it even when the guys were poking fun at him. When he mentioned that Claire would personally come down and take the money herself, they returned all bets. Everything between them became normal and natural. They fell into a loving pattern that never truly bored them. It felt perfect every second together.

Owen found that home life with Claire was everything he had ever wanted. He got to come home, see Claire with her hair down and wrapping herself into comfy clothes, and it felt warm to behold such a thing after a long day. Owen got into his sloppy clothes, peering around the corner to see Claire switching through netflix as he snuck into the kitchen. She was telling him about the things they could watch if they got bored of their current show they decided to binge. He made soft hums in reply as he searched for Claire’s favourite mug. Hidden in the cupboard, Owen placed it on the counter silently and boiled the water as quietly as he could. He made her favourite fruit tea. 

Walking carefully to the couch, he smiled to Claire, who looked up a little surprised. “Did you make me some tea?” she beamed, leaning forward and smelling the tea. She sighed, relaxing into the couch and smiling up. “I have a surprise,” she said, reaching down to the side of the couch, the object hidden by the furniture. Out Claire pulled two boxes; one with his favourite pop tarts, and the other the nutritional bars he had run out of just a few days before. 

“You didn’t,” he exclaimed, sitting down next to her. 

“I did,” she said, and Owen couldn’t help it, he kissed her face over and over, catching her lips and cheeks just to love her in each chaste kiss. Claire giggled, pinching his side and making him sit down next to her. 

“Which episode are we on?” he asked, just as Claire pressed play on the show. The 100. It was suggested by one of the younger staffers around Claire and she wanted to watch trashy T.V. with him at night. He usually got to cuddle close with her, so he never really minded. 

“Episode four, I think,” she said, catching hold of his arm and swinging it around her shoulders. 

“That Bell kid is a pain in the ass,” Owen groaned, shifting in closer to Claire. 

“You know, he kind of reminds me of you,” she said and as Owen looked down at her, there was a present smirk on her lips. 

“What?” he exclaimed, and Claire clutched onto his arm, making sure he could leave her side.

“The whole princess thing with Clarke. He likes her,” Claire explained, gesturing between the blonde girl and the Bellamy kid he was complaining about. 

“Really?” he questioned and Claire nodded. 

“Give it a season, and I’ll bet you that they get together,” she said. 

“How much?” Owen asked, a little hopeful. 

“Breakfast in bed,” she challenged and Owen nodded.

“You’re on.” 

It took them a few more days to get to the end of season two where in Claire was left slack jawed and Owen stood, dancing around the coffee table. Claire was pointing at the T.V., no words coming out as Owen laughed at her expression. Looking back at him, her brow furrowed and it dawned on her what Owen was doing. He was going to milk the hell out of this moment. 

“Breakfast! I get breakfast,” Owen said, going to the kitchen to clean up after their binge. He felt giddy. It was odd, but he loved being right for once, to just let himself win something that wouldn’t hurt either of them. 

“But you have to admit there’s something there!” Claire groaned, dragging herself into the kitchen. She held him from behind as he washed up dishes. 

“I’m not arguing with that, but whoever is writing this is going to drag that shit out for a while,” he laughed, reaching for her hand and kissing at her knuckles. Claire sulked into Owen’s back, cheek pressed against his shoulder as she was recovering from the end of the season. 

They managed to get through a lot of the other seasons, unexpectedly getting obsessed with it in the meantime. Owen would send Claire the previous episodes pictures and text her his thoughts on what was to come. Even, on those special occasions, sending her memes he found online. It was their guilty pleasure. 

They were midway through most of the third season when they had to stop. They weren’t entirely sure what had happened or how they should react. “They killed Lexa?” Owen asked, looking over to Claire, who looked as confused as he did. “I mean...what?” he asked, staring at the screen. 

“I just...did...is she really dead?” Claire asked. They both sat silently before reclining into the couch and not saying something for quite a while. When words came, it was Claire peeved with the ending of the character and how the season was going. Owen didn’t mind that much, he wasn’t the biggest Lexa fan, but it still felt bitter to watch a character go like that.

It took them a week or so to get up to date. They were busy with work and fell asleep more times in front of the T.V. than they’d both care to admit. Claire leaned on Owen’s shoulder, sipping at her tea as the credits of the episode rolled in. 

“She called him for like six years, every day,” Owen said, amazed at her commitment. It wasn’t until later that Owen thought of the irony, considering the lengths he went to for his own soulmate. 

“You know, I don’t think this was a good idea to binge watch this show,” Claire said, yawning as they both stood to go to their room. 

“Nope,” Owen yawned in return, both chuckling as they lazily wandered to bed. They both found their place in bed, cuddling up together before meeting in their dream to talk about the show they had just watched. Owen liked it when Claire got interested in things like this. Even if it was small, the look on her face as she brightened to the subject; she beamed and shone like a star. Owen was in awe of this woman, how she had changed, and created herself into something that was a wonder to behold. He loved every minute with her, every aspect of her. Mostly, he loved the way she laughed when she made her own jokes. She thought she was funnier than she was, but without fail, Claire made Owen fall apart in laughter. 

They fell into rhythms, understanding each other’s work schedules, when they’re busy and understanding when they come home later than normal. When Claire came home later than expected, Owen made sure he relaxed her shoulder, running a bath and making sure she had everything she needed for some peace. Claire did the same, except she handed him a beer and laid herself down in his arms, holding onto him. Other times, she’d do more than just hold him. And he never complained those nights about being tired or sore.

It was only polite to return the favour. 

Claire’s leg tightened, fingers bound in his hair. She was gasping, over and over again just trying to breathe out her moan, but gave over to it, crying it out as found her release. He let his tongue trace patterns against her, nipping at her tender flesh until she shivered. Feeling her thighs tremble in his hands, Owen grinned back at her, Claire head back falling back into her pillow as her chest rose in desperate breaths. Owen chuckled just as Claire maneuvered herself up to see him. 

“Come here,” she said, gesturing him up. He let her leg fall from his shoulder, moving over her slowly. 

“This was a you day,” he tried to shake it off, but Claire was bare and was enticing. She fucking knew it too. 

“I need you, babe. Please?” she whined, and it was all he needed. Owen stripped himself out of his clothes quickly and let his already stiff cock enter her quickly. Claire gasped at the feeling and it took Owen a lot not to moan when he was inside her.

The moments were feverish wanting and needing for something more. They moved together, tossing and turning, gaining the upper hand just to fall apart at the right swivel of the hips. Heated kisses exchanged for brief moments before they broke into moans and nails dragging in skin. 

Claire had a way of fall apart, the kind of longing to keep it that she held on with every last piece of her; nails in his back, teeth in his shoulder, thighs tightening around his hips. She held onto him with every last piece of her and it made Owen fall apart faster. He couldn’t help but lose himself in her, dragging out of her was torture, and driving himself until his hilt was heaven. He loved being with her until her climax tore wound in his back, and the coil that brewed in his belly finally let loose and he was forced to still and pant moans into her neck. They were completely undone by each other, every time they were together - they were bare and undone.

Laying beside each other, dragging breaths from the air that would not stay within them, Owen looked over at the woman he adored. There were moments where he thought he’d gotten too lucky, that the universe was pulling the biggest joke imaginable on him. But in the moments where he brought her to heated breaths, eyes fluttering closed because they couldn’t bear to stay open, he knew he was made for her. 

“Hey,” he muttered between breaths. 

“Yeah,” Claire slurred, barely looking over at him as her chest was still rising and falling in quick succession. 

“You are...exhausted,” he laughed and Claire broke a smile.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding slightly. 

“I love you.” Owen breathed it, like they were words that would always form, his lungs knew he was, his blood, his muscles, his bones; his voice was the only thing that could truly speak the words. Claire hitched herself up, moving to lay on top of Owen. He groaned at the extra weight but adjusted to her quickly. 

“Weird question, and you don’t have to answer,” she started, “what was the moment you knew?” 

“Knew I was in love with you?” he asked, and Claire nodded. Owen scratched the back of his head before laying his hands underneath his head. “Well, that’s hard cause I fell for you twice,” he shrugged.

“Huh?” 

“Well, in the dreams, I fell in love with the first time I saw you,” he said and Claire buried her face into his chest, laughing at his words, “but...I think the first time I knew I was in love with you the way that a mature love should,” he said, making Claire rest her cheek on his chest, “it was when you said to me that distance may keep us apart, but it doesn’t change the fact I love it when you laugh,” he remembered. Claire’s brow furrowed. 

“You knew from the first year?” Owen nodded in reply. 

“Yeah. What about you?” he asked. 

“You made this picnic when you realised it was twenty-fifth birthday. You made it in a park and it felt...fantastic,” 

“I was on tour when I did that. I had no time with you but I wanted to make it perfect. Made me feel closer to home,” he explained. 

“And, the other time I knew...when you cried in my arms when Fox died,” she confessed and the blush in her cheeks made it clear she felt self conscious of it. Claire explained long ago that she fell for him in dreams and in person, that she was fully in love with Owen Grady as she was in love with her soulmate. Owen didn’t mind; it meant he was something to her, that she would always want him. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“You...opened up to me when you didn’t want to, and I needed to comfort you. It felt like things shifted into place and I was happy to be a comfort to you,” she explained, her fingers running over his chest and tracing lines in his chest hair.

“I don’t think I ever really thanked you for that time,” he said, moving his hand to run fingers through her hair.

“I love you,” she said, moving up slightly to kiss him. How was it that every time she did that, he lost his breath? 

“I love you,” Owen replied, kissing her again. Curling his arms around Claire and pulling her into the bed, Owen laid her underneath him as he kissed her over and over, hearing her giggle as he poured every last bit of love over to her. 

On nights where they weren’t exhausted and tired beyond belief, Owen and Claire got ready for bed in their own time, looking up channels on the T.V. in their bedroom or figuring out paperwork in bed. Owen was sitting cross-legged on the bed, going over this report he needed to file on the raptors and the success of the exhibit. He was bored with it; he wasn’t good with paperwork and much preferred working on video diaries of the transition of the raptors. But they didn’t have time for that, so paperwork was all he had. 

 

Claire wore his seahawks jersey, slipping just onto her thighs and touching against her skin as she walked to the bed. As she was tying up her hair, Owen wolf whistled and Claire rolled her eyes. Owen tossed his paperwork aside, twirling his finger at her. 

“No, do a walk, come on, show off,” he joked.

“Shut up,” Claire said, picking up his papers and putting them on his bedside table. 

“You look like a model though, come on! Go go go!” he cheered like he was at a football match. 

“You’re a pervert,” she laughed. 

“But you look so beautiful,” Owen pouted and Claire wiped her face, groaning. 

“I look like a mess,” she replied. Owen took hold of Claire’s wrist, dragging her to the bed.

“Come here then,” he growled, diving in to kiss her and smother her with kisses all over her neck and exposed chest. She giggled loudly, telling him to stop but the hum of her laugh against his chest made him weak and he needed to gather that joy more than anything. He loved the nights where he could just be with her like this, without T.V. or exhaustion in their way; it was just them, and Owen loved her. 

The day came that Zara was getting married to her fiance. Owen wore his best suit, tailored grey with waist coat to match. Claire had been hidden away in their hotel bathroom after Owen was done with her hair; she wanted a french braid, and Owen had learned a while ago how to do one. Adjusting the maroon tie, trying not to choke himself with it, Claire emerged from the bathroom. 

It was a black wrap dress with pink and maroon colour flowers printed into the fabric. With stray hair framing her face, and make-up done to the nines, Owen still managed to be in awe of her beauty, even after ten years. 

“You look beautiful,” he beamed, walking over to her and placing his hands on her hips. 

“You have to say that,” she said, putting her earring in.

“No I don’t,” he laughed, “see if I wanted to get lucky tonight, I’d say you are the most beautiful woman in the world, and you’re gonna outshine every woman there. Even Zara,” he smirked.

“I don’t like the fact that this worked,” Claire sighed, poking his side.

“Nice,” he cheered lightly.

“Shut up,” Claire laughed, gathering up her purse and the wedding invitation, “you look amazing, honey,” she said, running her hand down his chest to smooth down his suit jacket. 

“Thanks,” he said, stealing a kiss from her. Claire smiled into it before she looked up at him.  

“I’m surprised my hair came out so well,” she said, scooping her hair over her shoulder. 

“You doubted me, didn’t you?” he questioned, raising his brow. 

“I never expected you to know how to do hair,” she confessed. 

“I’m full of surprises,” he smiled, taking hold of her hand and walking with her out of their room and down to reception, getting their car to the church. 

The wedding went off without a hitch, Zara’s dress getting a gasp from nearly everyone, including Alec. Everyone cheered and clapped when the couple kissed, but Owen couldn’t help but look at Claire. He had meant it many months ago, that he wanted to marry her; tell everyone that she was his and he was hers. They had spent so many years separated by this unmovable thing; the pressure that it had behind knowing or telling. When they finally got to be together, tangle themselves in sheets and hold each other in secure arms, he wanted it to last forever. It was his dream to marry the woman that drove him crazy. 

At the reception, Claire sat close to Owen, and there were times where he found her running her fingers up his arm, locking their fingers together to have her hold him tight. She smiled the whole night, cheering and laughing, radiating a joy that only weddings could do. They talked to the table, getting to know the group of soulmates around them, telling stories about how they first met and when they got married or were getting married. Claire and Owen didn’t say much about themselves, but they were okay with it.

They danced after Zara and Alec, the glow of the night dimming to just the dance floor. Owen admitted that he wasn’t as graceful as his dream, but he kept up his slow pace with Claire. They swayed more than they danced, but Owen was okay with that. Hands holding tight, and Claire’s head on his shoulder, they were some of the last people dancing. When Owen heard Claire sigh, he tilted her chin up. 

“What’s up?” he asked in a hushed voice. Claire looked up at him, eyes nervous, everything seeming small - like the fear of what she was to say shrunk her down. 

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asked softly. Owen let out a breath, smiling wide at her. 

“Everyday,” he replied, nodding softly. 

“Can we?” she asked, cautious with her small words. He only nods, smiling down at her as he rests his forehead against hers. 

“Name a day, I’ll move heaven and earth to marry you,” he told her, and with the softest whimper, Claire reached up to his cheek, leaning into him and kissing Owen. In that moment, he thought he had won the lottery; blessed with a fortune that could not be counted. 

Owen found himself kissing Claire every chance he gets from that day on. Wasted time and wasted moments prevented them from being together, kept apart by a cruel twist of fate. Now? Owen had chances to kiss her and he took them, he savoured the taste, the feeling that made his heart do leaps and bounds in his chest. He deserved to have this happiness, for those years of self loathing and destructive behaviour. Owen deserved to be happy, and joy was found in a smile, in hair that was red like fire, a laugh that sometimes sounded like a foghorn. He loved every ounce of her. 

The ring he gave her was his grandmothers. They managed to resize the band to fit Claire, but it suited her; it was simple but elegant just how she wanted. They organised it themselves, and by them, it was mainly just Claire. She was built for the role. In the meantime, Owen got to meet Claire’s family, enjoy time with them, as well as inviting his own family along, finally getting his mom to meet his future wife. That was a fun term for Owen to say. Future wife. It would be wife soon enough, but he enjoyed the fun while it lasted. 

The day arrived; Owen, in a finely pressed suit, white rose in his lapel, hair styled to perfection. The staff of the park had arrived, smiling eagerly at him as he stood a little nervously in front of them all. He wasn’t nervous for marriage, or what it would entail, he was scared about ruining this day for Claire. She had gone to all the trouble, and Owen didn’t want to be the one to do something stupid. 

Then, it was like heaven had opened the doors, because there she stood, next to her father in a dress that made his mouth go dry. It was like a ball gown, lace embroidery along the bodice and the sleeves that ran off the shoulders. The skirt of the dress was large compared to her waist, and trailed behind her, carrying the lightweight veil she had covering her face. 

She looked like a princess, elegant and serine. It silenced Owen to see her, because she took all meaningful words and made them null and void - nothing could describe how he felt or how beautiful she truly looked. He felt nervous, fixing his suit as much as he could before she walked down the aisle. As she kissed her father’s cheek, Owen taking her hand as her other fixed up her dress; regardless, she looked perfect. 

“You look amazing,” Owen said, a blissful sigh escaping him. 

“Thank you,” she smiled, biting at her lip, “you hands are shaking,” she whispered, clutching onto his hand tighter.

“I really don’t want to fuck up my vows,” he replied and Claire laughed. 

“You won’t.” 

And he didn’t.

Her eyes told him he wouldn't. Her smile encouraged him when he got nervous. Her tears of joy made his heart soften and he did everything right.

There were moments where they both forgot to stop dwelling on their dreams, as they had forgotten to live. They deserved more. And they started to live with their dreams and lives woven into one reality. Happiness was no longer a dream of a future; it was in the present and it had a heart, had lips soft and warm, and hands that held on so tightly, you’d never want them to let go. Dreaming may have formed their foundations, but love was of their own making; no force can make two different people fall in love like that. Only they could make it happen.

And love bloomed, sealed in a ring upon each of their ring fingers, confirmed with a kiss that echoed applause, and a dance that lasted all night. When they dreamed together, it felt perfect, because in the morning, they were still in each other’s arms. And that’s all they ever wanted. 


End file.
